


No Time to Regret, It's Time to Forget

by taralkariel



Series: Road to War [5]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Backstory, F/M, Mystery, Natasha-centric, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralkariel/pseuds/taralkariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a botched assassination attempt on one of Natasha Romanoff's oldest friend, Yelena Belova, she immediately launches an investigation. Probing deeper and deeper into her own past, will she be able to face what she finds there? (basically what I'd want from a Black Widow movie; interpretation of her Age of Ultron backstory)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sometimes I Think I'm Not That Strong, But There's a Force That Carries Me On

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write a story about Natasha to sort of do justice to her backstory in Age of Ultron, so this is inspired by that and by the Name of the Rose storyline. It's a little dark, but I hope you will enjoy it! Titles from Forget from Marina and the Diamonds.

_“Sloppy, pretending to fail,” Madame said, disappointment radiating from her._

_“Stop lying,” Steve snapped at her, pushing her into the wall impatiently._

_“Are you out of your mind?” Bruce demanded in anguish._

_“Given your service record, both for this country and against it, you belong in a penitentiary,” General Serrano informed her coldly._

_“I have no place in the world,” she admitted quietly, looking down and seeing that her hands were stained with blood.  Hers and what she’d taken from others.  The pain in her abdomen increased and blood began to flow from her, from her shoulder, her hip, and from between her legs._

_“What did you let them do to you?” Alexei demanded, in disgust._

_She tried to answer, but couldn’t; her mouth was too full of bile and she was afraid that, if she opened her mouth, she would start screaming and never stop._

“Natalia!  Natalia!” a worried voice broke through the darkness around her.  She felt hands on her shoulders, shaking her; one was cold.

She immediately swung her legs up and around the waist of her assailant, twisting and throwing her weight against him.  They fell off the bed and she landed on top of him, aware that she’d knocked the air out of the man.  Things began to look familiar and she stopped herself from getting up to run.  Instead, she bent and gently brushed his hair out of his face.

“I’m sorry, James,” she said earnestly, and he turned his head to kiss her hand.

Tentatively, he lifted his hands to her back and she obliged in laying down on top of him as he stroked her hair.  “It was just a nightmare, Natalia.  You’re safe now,” he murmured soothingly.

Letting out a long sigh, she felt the tension leave her and pushed aside the bad taste in her mouth, along with the ringing of voices in her ears.  “What time is it?” she asked, needing something on which to focus her scattered thoughts.

“About 5,” James replied softly.  “Do you want to go back to bed?”

She considered.  Sleep would certainly elude her.  Or she would want to avoid it, at any rate.  Running her fingers over the scarred flesh that was grafted to his metal arm, she shook her head decisively. 

He caught her hand and turned to look her in the eye.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, James.  Not this time.  What do you want for breakfast?” she asked, getting to her feet.  He followed more slowly and she felt a pang of guilt.  “I’m sorry.”

Smiling self-effacingly, he shrugged.  “Don’t be.  We can have whatever you want.”

With a nod, she headed toward the kitchen to see what could be had to start the day a little earlier than usual.

 

Her phone rang right on schedule as they were putting the breakfast dishes away.  “Romanoff,” she said.

“I need you in Germany,” Fury ordered without preamble.

Glancing over at James, she considered.  “I can be there in twenty hours.  Where?”

“Schloss Belvedere in Weimar.”

Her brow furrowed slightly.  “Alright.”  It wasn’t somewhere with which she was familiar.  “Who is my contact?”

“Just a local.  I’ll send you the details.”

“Fine,” she responded, suppressing a sigh; she hated starting missions unrested.  James smiled at her reaction.

“Stay off the radar.  Civilian clothes, no tack suits.  Commuter transport, don’t go asking Stark for one of his jets,” Nick ordered.

She snorted.  “Not sure he thinks he owes me any favors,” she replied.

“For being a genius, that boy sure is dumb.  Tell Bucky I’ll be in touch soon,” he added, resuming his official tone.

“Will do,” she promised.

“Be careful.”

The line went dead, and she tucked her phone in her pocket.  “Well, better get packed,” she muttered.

“Where are you headed?” James asked as he followed her back into the bedroom.

“Germany.”  His concern grew at the location and she hid a smile.  “Don’t worry, James, it’s been a long time since we were at war with them,” she teased.

His expression softened a little.  “I know that, Natalia,” he responded in a long-suffering tone.

She tossed a pillow at him, and he retaliated.  Her counter-move, while effective, meant that she wouldn’t get to packing for a while.

 

The flight to the Leipzig airport was very long and she was relieved to find that Fury had sent the mission parameters to her phone in the interim.  There was a company called Gynacon that had been gaining influence, and she was to investigate it for rumored ties to HYDRA.  A gala at Schloss Belvedere would provide her with access to a majority of higher-ups for the company, and was a good starting point in her investigation.

She had secured a window seat, and couldn’t resist looking out at the ocean at the morning sun glinting across the water.  The day became late quickly and she began to regret how early her morning had been.  Still, there was work to be done, so she searched out what she could learn about Gynacon before she took a nap.

The company was founded by Ian McMasters in partnership with a Vassily Ilyich Ulyanov.  McMasters was American, in his late sixties, and had quietly been amassing a fortune via clever investments for decades.  None of his investments were related to known HYDRA organizations, and other than a couple DIUs, he was pretty clean.  Divorced twice with two grown children who seemed to want nothing to do with him.  She couldn’t find their current whereabouts, in any case.

Ulyanov was Russian-born and had lived in that country for most of his life.  He was barely in his thirties and there was really no record of what he’d been doing before he came to America to partner with an older businessman.  Though the connection between the two was often mentioned in conjunction with Gynacon, it was never explained.  Ulyanov was wealthy and had contributed a notable sum to the founding of the company, but where he got that kind of money was impossible to find.  Well, impossible for most people.  When she landed, she decided to make some calls and see if she couldn’t track down the basis of his fortune. 

Like many current companies, it dabbled in all the most cutting-edge ideas, from weaponry to consumer tech to biotechnology.  Their mission statement was “creating a better world,” which was vague enough to cause concern.  At least to her.  She could definitely see why Fury wanted this company investigated more fully, and knew that he lacked many of his former resources to do it himself.  Personal contacts had become much more important these days, without the government providing the umbrella she had allowed herself to grow used to.  Still, she had been doing this on her own for years, and could certainly do it again.

 

The drive from Leipzig to Weimar was about an hour and a half.  She took a rental car, since she figured she’d want her own form of transportation, despite Fury’s recommendation.  Her alias for the trip was Nadja Rothbauer, a new one she’d created during the recent pandemonium in case she needed it.  It was a little difficult to navigate an unfamiliar location in the dark, but she managed.  The hotel she’d chosen online was one of the few that would accept guests at two in the morning, and was certainly not one of the best she’d used.  But it gave her the opportunity for several hours of sleep before the meet at 10 AM, so she couldn’t complain.

Redheads were not uncommon in Germany, so she was relieved not to need a wig for the mission.  She dressed in civilian clothes, touristy enough to not raise suspicion but not so touristy that she would be the target for thieves.  Not that she couldn’t handle a pickpocket, of course, but there was the danger of revealing she was more than a civilian if attacked.  Tucking her pistol into the pocket on the side of her purse and hiding her Widow’s bites under her sleeves, she headed over to Schloss Belvedere.

She was early, and the place wasn’t open to visitors yet.  Waiting was a vital part of most missions, so she patiently went back over her information for the mission as she sat on the curb outside.  After twenty minutes, a small crowd of tourists had gathered, it being summer, and the doors were finally opened to them.  She remained with the others for a while before slipping off into one of the bedrooms, where she was to meet her contact.

It was a beautiful building, with lovely antique furniture and luxurious appointments.  She allowed herself to be swept up in it while she waited, turning when she heard footsteps approaching her.  A brunette woman wearing sunglasses stepped into sight, pulling the glasses down as she did so.

“The oak is lovely,” the woman said flatly, nodding toward the dresser.

“I prefer the maple,” Natasha replied, folding her arms over her chest.

Nodding, the woman pulled out a tissue-wrapped packet and handed it over.  “Good luck,” she added as she disappeared the way she’d come.

Carefully tucking the packet into her purse, Natasha wandered around the building for another ten minutes before heading back to the hotel to get to work.


	2. Sick of My Small Heart, Made of Steel, Sick of Those Wounds that Never Heal

The packet contained a tightly-wrapped evening gown as well as an invitation to tonight’s gala.  After refreshing herself on the research, she tried on the dress, which was a black slip gracefully draped with blue lace.  Smirking, she wondered who had chosen it.  A slit in the fabric showed off her legs as well as allowing her access to the Glock she strapped to her thigh.  Her Widow’s bites would be harder to conceal, but she had one that could pass as jewelry.  A knife strapped to her other thigh completed her arsenal, and she contemplated whether or not she could fit her other Glock in the small matching clutch that had been provided.  Her phone buzzing delayed the decision, and she leaned over to the nightstand to pick it up.

“Hey, James,” she said, his name being one of the few programmed in this cell.

“Nat, how’s it going?” he asked, his tone just casual enough for her to know he was worried but didn’t want her think he doubted her abilities.

“Good.  Made my contact, looks like a good location for preliminary questioning.  I don’t know if Fury will ask me to stay past that or not.”

There was a pause as she adjusted her jewelry in the mirror, not all of it weapons-based.  “Alright.  Well, keep in touch.”

“Is everything okay there?” she pressed.

Another pause, and she resisted the urge to sigh.  “I’m fine – we’re fine, Natalia.  It’s just, you know, useful to have a super spy around,” he explained lightly.  “But I’m sure Sam and I can handle it.”

She snorted, putting a hand on her hip.  “Send me what you’re working on and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Natalia.  Talk to you soon?”

“I’m undercover, James.  I have to go, but I’ll call you when I have the time.  I love you,” she added sincerely.

“I love you, too,” he answered, matching her tone.

She turned the sounds off and tucked the phone into her clutch.  No room for a Glock after all.  Shrugging, she checked the time.  The gala didn’t start for another hour, and she should probably show up fashionably late.  She decided to use the opportunity to do some more investigation on the case. 

“Hey, Pepper.”

“Natasha, what a surprise,” Pepper Potts answered her phone, clearly not exaggerating.  “I didn’t know the number – ” she began in explanation.

“I’m on a case.  Listen, could you look into something for me?”

“Well, I don’t – you know what, yes.  What do you need, Nat?” Pepper said after a moment of hesitation.

Smiling a little sadly, Natasha sat back to determine how to frame this without potentially leaking something important.  “Anything you can find out about Vassily Ilyich Ulyanov would be much appreciated.”

“I’ll look into it,” Pepper promised.

“Thanks, I owe you one, Pepper,” Natasha replied before hanging up.  Taking a deep breath, she typed in another number.

“This is Hill.”

“Maria, good to talk to you,” Natasha began pleasantly.

“Romanoff, where are you?” Maria cut her off.

“I’m sure that’s not relevant.  Listen, I need you to send any information you can find on Vassily Ilyich Ulyanov or Ian McMasters to this number, if you have the time.  If not, I’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough,” she replied placidly.

Maria made some noises of annoyance before sighing.  “Fine.”

“Thanks, Maria.”

“Goodbye, Natasha,” Hill said forcefully before hanging up.

Smiling to herself, she put her phone back in her clutch and went to play with potential hairstyles for a while.

 

Fashionably half an hour late, Natasha drove over to Schloss Belvedere, somewhat surprised to find that it looked quite different from the sleepy antique it had been in the morning.  A train of cars, most fancier than her own, were dropping people off at the brightly-lit front entrance.  She joined the line and reviewed her plan in her head.  Once she was close enough to be visible to the valets, she adopted a carefree attitude, smiling broadly when her door was opened.

Stepping out carefully, she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear while her smile took on a more demure appearance.  “Danke shön,” she told the young man shyly, handing over her keys.  He smiled broadly at her, tipping his hat as she moved out of his way.  Then she headed toward the doors, keeping her arms close to her as if nervous.

There had been many galas, dances, balls, etc., where Natasha had been sent to question or manipulate the elite, and they all seemed the same.  Nothing new here, and she was blind to the carefully crafted opulence on which someone had surely spent a great deal of time (and money).  Perhaps it was her upbringing, but she tended to avoid anything particularly luxurious.  At least in her personal life.  This was much better than crawling through sewers or rifling through warehouses, as missions often involved, though, so she wasn’t going to complain.

She hadn’t been there more than half an hour when she spotted Ian McMasters entering.  He did not stick out from the other old white men particularly, and she was glad to have studied his face in advance.  His young Russian friend was not with him, as far as she could tell.  Pictures of him had been significantly harder to come by; his face was always obscured by hats, scarves, or sunglasses.  Some scarring she’d been able to make out on his left side might have accounted for the unwillingness to be photographed bare-faced.  It would not do to spook the old man, so she waited, making small talk with other patrons of little consequence for a while.

 Impatience began to weigh on her, so she politely excused herself from her conversation and began heading in McMasters’ direction.  He separated himself slightly to pick up a glass of champagne, and she swept in to take advantage of the opportunity.

“Guten tag,” she said lightly, bumping his fingers briefly as she lifted another glass from the tray.

He smiled at her.  “Good evening, young lady,” he answered.

“It’s a lovely event, don’t you think?” she inquired warmly.

“Yes, quite lovely.”  His response was a little distracted as she made a show of readjusting her skirt.  She looked up with a blush and her demure smile returned.

“I’m Nadja Rothbauer.  I spoke to your assistant on the phone,” she lied.  He had the decency to look concerned.  “Perhaps we could talk somewhere more… private?” she suggested.

He coughed on his drink.  “Oh, yes, my dear, that would be pleasant,” he stuttered as he looked around the room.

Removing her card from her clutch, she pressed it into his hand and squeezed.  “Call me when you get some free time, Ian,” she recommended sweetly, and left him looking dumbstruck.  Once out of his line of sight, she let a barely perceptible shudder run through her.  His hand was clammy, and she did not look forward to making his acquaintance more thoroughly later.  But that was taken care of, so she needed to look for any other Gynacon affiliates who might be available for questioning.

She retreated to a corner of the room and looked over the crowd carefully, searching for any of the faces she had reviewed earlier.  No one seemed to match and she was starting to feel disappointed – how could she discreetly meet up with anyone else? – when she saw a familiar face.  A real smile lit her face unbidden and she set off into the crowd.

“My friend, I didn’t expect to see you here.  Or anywhere,” she said softly to a blond woman wearing a gorgeous dark red gown.  Like Natasha’s, it featured a slit up the side to provide access to weaponry as well as flexibility if needed.

The blond blinked in surprise, then smiled broadly.  “Well, that’s an important facet of my line of work,” Yelena Belova responded in a bemused tone.

“Nadja,” Natasha introduced herself, holding out her hand.  “Love what you’ve done with your hair.”

A smirk crossed Yelena’s face.  “Thanks.  What brings you here?”

Natasha waved her hand dismissively.  “Just questioning executives on their motives, the usual.  You?”

“Oh, you know, finding people who need to be found, as always.  Though my tip must have been bad, because I’m coming up empty-handed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  You want to head somewhere a little more private and we can catch up?” Natasha suggested.

Yelena glanced around the room once more, then smiled genuinely.  “Sure, it’s been a few years.  I think you owe me dinner for the last time we crossed paths.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Natasha linked arms with Yelena and walked them toward the door, smiling sweetly at McMasters when he glanced in her direction.  Stepping outside into the cool night air was quite a relief, and Natasha let out a sigh.

“I agree,” Yelena laughed.  “You still hanging around that guy you rescued?”

“Yeah.  Anyone in your life?” Natasha asked as they stepped across the gravel, heading for her car.

Yelena stopped up short, frowning into the darkness.  “Hang on, I think that’s my guy now.  Not in the same capacity,” she added as she gave Natasha a sidelong look.

The man in question was dressed in dark clothes and looking around furtively as he headed down a pathway between two of the buildings.  He was average build, appeared to be alone, and was not obviously armed – he didn’t carry himself like he was, anyway.  He hadn’t spotted them where they stood in the midst of others who found it too warm inside, and there weren’t any other patrons in his area.

“Let’s go get him,” Natasha said.

“You go around back, I’ll follow him,” Yelena replied, expression focused.

Natasha pulled her Glock out of her purse once she was around the corner, and took care to walk silently as she moved forward.  She stopped when she heard voices speaking very quietly in Russian, and considered how to warn Yelena that the mark wasn’t alone.

“She’s following?” one voice murmured.

“Da, though she wasn’t alone.”

“Well, we’ll get this Widow and her friend, and then we’ll go find ourselves some more,” a third, more authoritative voice said before shushing the others.

Yelena hadn’t been a Black Widow in years.  There weren’t any that went by that name except for Natasha; she didn’t know how many were still alive after the Red Room dissolved, but none had kept the codename except for her.  So some Russians (clearly native-speakers) calling Yelena Belova a Black Widow was definitely something of concern.  Natasha charged her Widow’s bite and turned off the safety on her Glock before heading into the fray.


	3. Because I Have Lived My Life in Debt, I've Spent My Days in Deep Regret

The fight was quick and dirty.  She was quickly out of bullets and having to rely too much on her Widow’s bite.  It was something of a relief to see that Yelena had two pistols, though soon both were just using knives.  While Natasha preferred not to add to the number of deaths on her record, they gave her little choice.  Yelena didn’t seem to have the same hang-ups, and was as brutal as Natasha remembered her being when they were products of the Red Room.  Despite their skill, they were outmatched when the initial three men were soon joined by others.  Some of these were dressed well enough to indicate that they had been at the gala, but many were chauffeurs, bodyguards, busboys, or whatever else.  They seemed to come out of nowhere, and no civilians were joining them.  Which made it seem more and more like a trap, set for Yelena.  Natasha could only hope that her unexpected appearance might thwart their plans.

Most of the men were average in build or at least training, and the two women cut through the crowd pretty well.  Until a half dozen men in dark blue uniforms showed up.  They were as skilled as the old STRIKE team, and Natasha found that the two who attacked her could take a lot of punishment.  As much as she could give.  She glanced over at Yelena to check on her just in time to see that she was being held by three of the others, while a fourth came at her with a syringe.  Distracted as Natasha was by her own assailants, she couldn’t get there in time to stop them from injecting something that caused Yelena to go limp almost immediately, her eyes rolling back into her head as she did so.

Reinvigorated, Natasha pressed against those around her with ferocity, managing to break through and reach her friend before they could do anything else to her.  She stood over the prone figure brandishing her knives and trying to figure out how she could possibly get the two of them out of this.

“Don’t worry, girl, we aren’t here for you,” one of the men in dark blue laughed.

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind letting me go on my way,” she shot back.

“You, sure,” he replied, stepping back and motioning toward a clear pathway.

Calmly, she sheathed her knives and put her hands on her hips haughtily.  “That’s what I thought,” she said before bending to put Yelena’s arm around her shoulders.  The dead weight was a problem, and Natasha was thankful for her friend’s relatively petite size as she began to drag her away.

“Sorry, girl, but we have strict orders about that lady,” the man, clearly the one in charge, moved back into her path.

Glaring, she opened her mouth to retort before another voice interrupted them.

“What’s going on out here?!” a (real) security guard demanded, no doubt attracted by the distinctive sound of ‘silenced’ gunfire. 

Finally, Natasha thought with impatience.  “I need an ambulance for my friend,” she told him before anyone else could answer.

The guard frowned at her, then at the man in blue, before looking slightly shocked at the other men strewn across the grass and gravel.  “Seems like she can wait in line,” he said before making a call for one.

Natasha could see that the men were not too keen on being interrupted, and used the tiny window provided by their making sure the guard didn’t talk about what he’d seen to drag Yelena out of immediate view.  Ignoring the tightness in her chest, she managed to get them back where there were other civilians waiting outside, who seemed understandably startled by her tattered appearance.  “Thieves,” she explained, letting some of her real fear show on her face.

“Oh, you poor dears,” was the general reaction, and one of the men helped her while the valet fetched her car.  They offered more assistance, but she figured she better get as far away from those men in blue as she could.  Once the two of them were safely in her car, she called Nick Fury.

 

“You really need to lie still,” the nurse told Natasha firmly, pressing on her shoulder.

“I’ve had worse,” she insisted, trying again to get out of the bed.

“Young lady,” the nurse tried again as the door to the room opened.

“Natasha,” Nick Fury stood framed in the brighter lights from the corridor.

She smiled at him, lying back demurely.  “Hello, Nick,” she said.

“Give us a moment,” he told the nurse authoritatively.  Frowning, she left the room.  “She was poisoned.  Morphine overdose.  I expect they planned to make it look like an accident or a suicide.  She’s going to be fine.”  As he explained, he pulled up the one chair in the room and studied her.  “It’s lucky you were there.”

Raising an eyebrow, she smirked.  “You didn’t send me there to meet her?”

“Believe it or not, there is only one Black Widow in my employ.”

“You only keep track of people who work for you?”

He gave her an exasperated sigh.  “I can see you’re feeling better.”

Hissing, she leaned over to pick up her phone from the table and looked at its screen.  “I met McMasters, gave him my card.  Haven’t heard from him yet.  None of the other execs were there.”

Fury nodded, watching her carefully.  “Well, get some rest.  It can wait.”

He stood to leave, and she grabbed his sleeve.  “They were after her.”

“Yeah, and they would have gotten her if not for you,” he replied soothingly, perhaps thinking her non sequitur was the result of the drugs in her system.

“No, I mean they targeted her because she was a Black Widow,” she explained with forced patience.

That made him sit back down.  “How do you know?”

“I overheard them say they were going get this Widow and then go get some more.  I don’t know why they didn’t recognize me, but they’re definitely after us.”

Fury studied her for a long moment.  “I’ll see what I can find out about the others.  You’ll be perfectly safe here.  I’ll check in as soon as I know something,” he promised.

Feeling defeated and very tired, Natasha just nodded.  Fury patted her shoulder before leaving and she gave in to whatever was in that IV.

 

When she awoke, her brain no longer felt cloudy.  The minor wounds she had sustained were stitched and bandaged, and she decided there was no longer any reason for her to be in this place.  There was no sign of the staff, and a cursory glance at her phone revealed that she had only slept for a few hours and received no new information in the meantime.  Dragging herself off of the bed, she took a deep breath to steady herself.  Her stuff was in a pile in the corner and she dressed quickly, feeling much better once she was armed again.  The dress was a little torn, but passable.

Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she walked slowly down the hallway, peering into each room she passed.  Avoiding the staff was something of a challenge, and she smiled sweetly at the startled gentlemen in one of the rooms where she hid.  Yelena was in the fourth room, and Natasha shut the door behind her after she entered.  Quietly, she pulled up the uncomfortable chair in the room and took her oldest friend’s hand.

“Wake up, Yelena,” she murmured in Russian.  The blond shifted slightly, frowning, before settling again.  “Yelena,” Natasha said a little louder.

“I hate toe shoes,” Yelena muttered, bringing up her hands to rub her eyes.  She took in the room with a deepening frown.  “Where are we, Natalia?”

“In a hospital in Leipzig.  Some men in green uniforms tried to kill you.  Any idea why?”

Yelena pulled herself into a sitting position and cleared her throat.  Most poisons left one with severe dry-mouth, Natasha reflected.  “Not a clue.  Did they have any kind of insignia?”

“No, criminals tend not to advertise their organizations these days,” Natasha replied.

Smirking, Yelena nodded.  “Yeah.  Well, I have my fair share of enemies.  I’m sure you do, too.  No one in particular comes to mind.”

Natasha looked away thoughtfully.  “They said they were going after Widows.”

“It’s been years, decades?, since we were last together and using that name.  What could they possibly want with us now?” Yelena asked, clearly startled at the suggestion.

“I have no idea.  Do you keep in contact with any of the others?”

“No, we didn’t part on exactly friendly terms.”

Smiling slightly, Natasha shrugged.  “Yeah, that’s what I figured.  Well, I’ll see what I can find out about whoever is left.  You might want to check into anyone you know from back then,” she added as she got to her feet.

With a nod, Yelena swung her legs out of the bed.  “You don’t think I’m going to stick around like a sitting duck, do you?” she asked when Natasha raised an eyebrow at her.

“I suppose not.  You want me to wait for you?”

“No need.  I’ll keep in touch,” Yelena replied as she began to sort through her pile of clothes.

“Stay safe, my friend,” Natasha told her as she headed for the door.

“You too.”


	4. I've Been Living in the Red Because I Can't Forgive and I Can't Forget

Her body ached after the fight, but she slipped out of the hospital without being questioned.  Hopefully, if anyone came looking for her, the staff wouldn’t report her missing right away and she could get out of the country before anyone noticed.  That was the plan.  James would want her to come home, to regroup, to get backup.  But she didn’t think the answers she was looking for were in the States.  So she headed to the airport and booked a flight in the opposite direction.

After two hours of waiting for the plane and five hours on it, she landed in St. Petersburg.  Her belongings had been left at the hotel in Weimar, but she had gotten her hands on some casual attire before boarding.  Her dress definitely attracted attention, and that’s what she needed to avoid at this point.  Shoes were always the hardest to come by and she regretted the nice sneakers she’d left behind.  The new ones were alright, better than heels, but not as comfortable.

That was important because she forwent a taxi in order to walk to her destination.  It might have been paranoia, but she always felt more confident on her own feet.  Especially since she could always tell when she was being followed on foot.  The airport, however, was not particularly close to her safe house, and it took the better part of an hour to hoof it.  Still, no sign of anyone taking special notice of her, so she wasn’t bothered.

This particular safe house had not been occupied in many years, and she’d gone to great lengths to keep it hidden from everyone.  There was no telling whom you could really trust, she’d always known.  It was important to have somewhere to go to ground that she could count on being uncompromised.  And, especially since she’d leaked all SHIELD’s files, those places were few and far between these days.  She’d been working at increasing the number, of course, but it took a great deal of time to work through all the backchannels.

So, this was it, for now.  She walked quietly up the carpeted stairs, vaguely relieved that they squeaked despite her precautions – she would be able to hear anyone coming.  It was an older apartment building, in what was now a bad part of town.  Not that she had anything to fear from that.  She could defend herself, and it increased the likelihood that no one would ask questions or remember her later.  She paused in the stairwell, considering that, when she bought this place, before she’d even started working for SHIELD, it had been a much more pleasant place to live.

Pushing the thought away, she moved forward, stopping on the fourth landing and walking down to the third door.  The old key was still hidden between the carpet and the wall, to her relief.  Not that she didn’t have other methods of gaining entry.  The lock scraped from disuse and she coughed at the dust that had accumulated.  It was a small apartment, the kitchen and living area all one space, with a tiny bedroom and bathroom attached.  Wiping everything down with a rag crossed her mind, but she headed for the couch instead.

Relief swept through her when she lifted the cushions and found the padlock beneath them still locked.  The key for it was long-gone, and it took her a few minutes to pick it.  Successful, she lifted it open and smiled grimly at the arsenal before her – a shotgun, two rifles, four pistols, a few knives, Widow’s bites, taser discs, and plenty of ammo.  She had taken care to restock the place whenever possible, but hadn’t been on a solo mission to this part of the world in some time.

After taking inventory, she headed to the pantry to see what might have been left.  There were a few prepared meals like those the military used.  They would do – she didn’t plan on staying long enough to eat more than that.  Before preparing one, she gave into her impulse to deal with most of the dust and check on the rest of the place.  There was some water damage, plenty of hard water stains, but nothing too unpleasant.  Nothing to keep her from making this her base of operations, at least for now.

Settling down on the couch, she pulled out the burner phone she’d gotten at the airport.  The other she’d thrown away at the hospital.  Into it she programmed the most important numbers she had, since it could save her life to have allies on speed dial.  It had before.  Going through dummy sites to reach her email account was annoying, but something at which she’d gotten plenty of practice, so it didn’t take long.  Nothing from Fury yet.  Or from Yelena, but that was a long shot.  A short message from James asking for update, and nothing else of consequence.  She wrote back to say she was fine.  She considered saying more, but decided not to until she knew something.  He had his hands full.

Impatience got the best of her and she sent Fury a text to call her back as soon as he could.  He would know it was her.  Feeling a little worn down, she fixed her dinner while she waited for a response.

 

“Hello, Nick.”

“Natasha.”  His voice sounded slightly concerned.

“I’m fine.  What did you find out?” she pressed.

He cleared his throat.  “There were twenty-eight of you originally.  Ten of you graduated.  You know this.”

“I do.”

A pause, as though he were nodding.  “What you may not know is what happened after you left.  The others stayed and worked for Mother Russia for years, long after you came to us.  A few, Elena, Oksana, and Renata were killed in action before Department X was shut down.  Those are records I can find.  What happened to them afterward is a lot harder to track.”

“So you don’t know?” she asked, keeping the disappointment from her tone.

“I have a lead.  There was an Andre Rostov who started showing up in the mission reports toward the end of its run.  I managed to find him, he may have kept contact with the others or have some idea what they are doing nowadays.”

Any lead was better than none, and Natasha smiled.  “Where is he?”

“Volgograd.  He has some ties with an organization called the Sword of Judgment, so keep on your toes when you talk to him,” Fury recommended.

She snorted.  “I’ve heard of them, just the usual band of disgruntled people thinking that putting civilians in harm’s way will get their point across.”

“They’ve been escalating in the last few years,” he warned.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Ask nicely for help.”

A laugh escaped her.  “Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Romanoff, I mean it.”

“Understood, boss.  You home yet?”

He sighed.  “These damned flights are delayed.  I’ve been at this airport for hours.”

“Well, say hi to James when you see him.  Make sure he doesn’t go off half-cocked,” she added.

“You make it sound easy.”

Smiling, she glanced at her watch.  “I have to go to work now, Nick.”

“Keep me in the loop, Romanoff,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, then hung up.  The information Fury promised started making her phone buzz a few moments later, after she’d cleaned up the kitchen.  Checking on flights to Volgograd gave her something to do while she waited for it all to arrive.  Then she packed up about half of her arsenal and headed for the door.  It entered her mind that she should get some sleep before heading off again, but she didn’t think she could relax enough for that.

She was calculating how long it would take her to get to Rostov’s location when she heard footsteps on the stairs.  Freezing, she took a deep breath – her nerves were more fried than she’d thought, and she forced herself to continue locking the door as nonchalantly as possible.  Foresight had influenced her to tuck a knife into her pocket, and she fingered it for reassurance as she listened.  A figure stepped into view and she adopted a politely distant smile as she headed for the stairs.

Relief flooded her when she noticed that it was just a ragamuffin child, but it was short-lived.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the child said, squinting at her.  “Did you come out of 43?”

“Yes,” she answered slowly, considering escape routes.

“I was told to drop this off if any lady came to that place.”  Shuffling forward, the child held out an envelope.  Natasha reached to take it, aware of a tremor passing through her fingers.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and the child ran off as soon as it had rid itself of the burden.  The envelope had her address written on it, and was old and tattered.  It was not unusual for her to receive information this way, she reassured herself, but it had been a few years.  And it wasn’t like anyone should know she was here.

Steeling herself, she opened the package to find it empty except for a single blue ribbon, barely six inches long.  The sight of it caused her to drop her bag in order to catch onto the bannister so she could catch her breath.  The flight was going to have to wait.


	5. Ever Since I Can Remember, Life Was Like a Tipping Scale

The next morning, she continued her mission, the little blue ribbon tucked into a pocket inside her coat.  She was well-armed and prepared for today’s goal.  Ghosts from her past could be ignored for now.  Fury had sent a picture of Rostov and she is relatively certain she’d seen him before.  When she was young, in the Red Room.  He might have been a contact or a handler on a mission; she didn’t think she had seen him more than once or twice before she left the department to do her own thing.

Previous experience with him or not, she wasn’t sure how he would react to her coming out of the blue.  So she figured showing up at his house was not the best course of action.  Instead, she wrote out a note asking him to meet an “old friend” at a certain café in the afternoon and left it wedged in his front door.  It wasn’t a foolproof plan, and time wasn’t a luxury afforded to her, but she could come by in the evening if he didn’t show up.  In the meantime, she checked into a run-down hotel and planned which parts of her arsenal to take with her to the meet.

 

Arriving early, she took a table where she would have a good view of the other patrons as well as of the street, with her back to a pillar, which afforded some protection.  It wasn’t ideal, but she’d been in worse positions when meeting with unknowns.  A cup of coffee settled her nerves and she considered what direction to take the conversation once he arrived.  Her red hat was how he would identify her, and she regularly checked for any others with the same distinguishing feature.  No one so far.  He should have no problem identifying her.  Assuming he got the note.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she casually assessed the other patrons.  A local man in his late thirties, reading the paper; a young mother with her two children under school-age; a tourist couple, likely European; two older ladies gossiping.  No one looked threatening, though Natasha knew better than anyone not to trust appearances.  The barista was a teenage girl, and a boy of about the same age was bussing the table.  Neither seemed like they might be a plant.

The café was a familiar one to Natasha, though she hadn’t been to it very recently.  It was on the other side of town from her hotel, which should diminish the likelihood of anyone connecting it to her current location.  Or following her home after she finished her conversation with Rostov.  He should be in his early forties now, she supposed.  Fury had not provided her with any particularly recent photos, but she figured she would have no trouble recognizing him.

As the young woman with the children left, someone outside held the door for them, and Natasha waited as nonchalantly as possible to get a look at him.  He was wearing a coat and hat, and headed for the counter, ordering with a forced calmness – she could see his hand twitching a little.  When he turned around, she smiled at him.  He nodded slightly at her, then faced the barista again to collect his coffee.

She broadened her smile as he headed her way and slid somewhat nervously into the chair across from her.  “It’s been a while, Andre,” she said lightly.

Looking around in far too obvious a fashion, he removed his hat and wrung his hands briefly.  His attention fixed on her at last and he frowned slightly before leaning back in surprise.

“Natalia,” he murmured.  “I… I didn’t expect it to be you.”

She took another sip of her coffee.  “Whom did you expect?”

He shrugged.  “Any number of people,” he replied dismissively.  “How long has it been?  I haven’t seen you since you escaped.”

“Is that what they called it?”

A less than pleasant smile crossed his features.  “You were one of our most valuable assets.  You had no right to trade your services for him.”

Snorting, she looked away from him to survey the room.  No one was paying them any attention.  “You think that’s how that went?”

“Well, I hear you’re the only one left around to blame.”

“I didn’t expect it to bother you so much.  Left room for you and the other girls to shine, didn’t it?” she inquired politely.

His eyes narrowed.  “Sure, until they decided the department must not be able to handle its people, if the prize pupil goes astray.  They shut us down because of you, Natalia.  Because of your selfishness.  It was no surprise that you went over to the capitalist pigs after that,” he snarled.

A few glances flickered in their direction, and she took care to look at ease.  “You can’t think I had any intention of that,” she admonished gently.

Apparently noticing the attention he’d attracted, Andre leaned back and contented himself with glaring at her.  “What are you doing here, Natalia?  You never had much use for me when I worked for your superiors before.  Can’t imagine what you want with me now.”

“I think you have some information I’d appreciate you sharing,” she told him.

“Oh, yeah?  And why would I do that?”

Licking her lips, she looked demurely down at her cup.  “You were fond of us, weren’t you?  The Widows, I mean,” she added, looking up to gauge his reaction.

His discomfort with the question made it apparent that he had been.  “Why does that matter?”

“I think we’re in trouble.”

“You’ve been in trouble your whole lives, that’s the job.”

“More trouble than usual,” she clarified.

He seemed concerned, or at least interested in what she had to say.  “Why?”

“You remember Yelena?”

A smile twitched across his face.  “Yeah.  She’s a good girl.  I hear she’s hunting bounties now.”

Natasha returned his smile.  “Yes, Andre.  I just ran into her on a job, and you’ll never believe what happened.”

The color drained from his face.  “She’s dead?”

“No, but pretty close.  If I hadn’t been there, they would have gotten her,” she told him seriously.

He ran his hand through his hair.  “That’s terrible news,” he muttered, staring at the table.

“Andre.”  He looked up.  “Where are the others?”

“Others?”

“The other Widows,” she pressed, trying to pull him back from where ever he’d gone in his head.

Licking his lips, he began nodding slowly.  “Yes, the others.  Why ask me?  From what I hear, you’ve got plenty of resources these days.  A whole branch of our enemy’s government,” he added snidely.

She was losing him.  “I don’t know who set up the attack.  I don’t want to go alerting a whole branch of the government that I’m suspicious,” she responded reasonably.

“Yeah?  Or maybe they’re just no longer taking your calls after what you did.”

Her smile grew frosty.  “What did I do?”

“Picked the wrong side.  Like you always do.  How’s that working out for you?  Where’s your husband, Natalia?” he hissed, leaning in close.

She recoiled, resisting the urge to strike him.  Definitely should have gotten more sleep, she reflected.  “If you’re not going to help me, I can take my business elsewhere,” she sniffed.

That elicited a harsh bark of a laugh.  “Oh, business, is it?  What do you have to give me for the information you want?”

“What do you want, Andre?”

His smile broadened.  “I’ll tell you what your sisters have been up to in recent years, but first you have to do something for me.”

“What is it?” she asked warily.

Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he scribbled something down before folding it in half.  “Meet me at this address at midnight tonight, and you’ll see,” he replied, pushing the paper in her direction.

“And if I refuse?”

He stood up, shrugging.  “Then you’ll have to find someone else as well-connected as me,” he answered.

Natasha watched him go, then picked up the paper and considered if she really wanted to go to an old warehouse in the middle of the night.  Surely someone else would know where the Widows had gone.


	6. Like an Abacus I Played With, Counting Every Win and Fail

Though she spent the rest of the day attempting to track down leads, it became apparent that Rostov was her best bet on finding the others.  None of them had kept the codename they’d shared, and names had been changed.  Even if they hadn’t, everyone only had a first name in the Red Room (if they had one at all).  In any case, she could at least entertain the idea of doing what he wanted.  Her research into his life did not indicate any HYDRA affiliation.  Or any reason why he might be behind the attack on Yelena.  Still, to be safe, she dressed in work clothes and took as much of her weaponry as she could carry on her person to the meet.

Natasha tried to arrange her meets in public places where ever possible; since he’d insisted on an abandoned warehouse, she went a few hours early to scope things out.  The part of town was not one in which someone would willingly venture at this time of night, and she predictably didn’t see anyone else.  It was on the waterfront, and many of the surrounding buildings were still in use.  There were a few yellow lights flickering here and there on the property, and she used her phone to scan for any traps.  Nothing pinged, though that didn’t necessary mean it was safe.

Sighing, she leaned against the wall and considered if this was worth her time.  What information did she really have?  Yelena had been attacked; it sounded like they were going after other Widows.  But couldn’t she count on her sisters to be able to fend for themselves?  Of all the people she might worry about, this seemed the most unfounded.  On the other hand, she’d never worried about Yelena, and she was relatively certain her friend would have fallen if not for Natasha’s help.  And anyone who wanted to take down former Widows was likely to have reason for it; she didn’t think that could be anything good.  Sure, they’d all been spies and assassins at some point, but giving them justice and hunting them down were two very different things.

Since she didn’t know who orchestrated the attack and had no leads, the best option was to find the others.  Perhaps they would know something, or could be used as bait.  Or she might even meet up with one of them at the same time whoever was behind this chose to act on her, which would be convenient.  In any case, doing a favor for Rostov seemed to be her best lead at this point.  So she headed back to her hotel to get some rest before the meet.

 

Always cautious, Natasha arrived at the warehouse at eleven-thirty to watch Rostov arrive.  He came alone, which was something of a relief.  Hiding in the rafters, she watched him come in through one of the smaller doors, and glanced through a window to see if anyone was waiting for him.  She hadn’t heard anything, and a scan from her phone showed no other warm bodies in the area.  Satisfied, she climbed down and dropped silently behind him.

“You’re early,” she said, smiling when he jumped.

“You should talk,” he replied, turning around and trying to look nonchalant.

“So, why the choice in scenery?”

He cleared his throat.  “In half an hour, there will be a lot more people here.  It’s one of our meeting places.”

“The Sword of Judgment?” she questioned, and Rostov nodded.  She suppressed a sigh.  “You wanted me here to add to your membership?”

“Not at all, Natalia,” he replied with a snort.  “I have a much better use for your skills.”

“Which is?” she pressed when he didn’t immediately continue.

“I want to be in charge of the society.  And I think deposing leaders is within your purview?”  The mocking edge in his tone made her hackles rise, but she forced a smile.

“Of course.”

He returned her cold smile.  “Then perhaps you can go back up where you were hiding, and our dear leader will be assassinated at our sacred meeting.”

“And you’ll rally them to you, promising vengeance,” she finished.

“I knew you were a clever one.”

She sighed.  “Fine.  Shall I shoot him or set up a trap?”

The second idea clearly hadn’t occurred to him, because he brightened at the mention.  “A trap would be perfect!” he said with surprising enthusiasm.

“Thanks.  Your people don’t do any kind of security screening before the meeting starts?”

“No, we haven’t had any reason to.  Yet,” he added with a grin.

Killing the leader of a terrorist organization was not something she was going to regret, she supposed.  The vacuum of power would be filled by Rostov, and a thought was forming on how to deal with him when this was over.  “Fine.  I’ll get set up.”

 

The two of them waited in the dark outside until some other people started showing up.  Most were men, as she expected, but a few women joined their ranks so Natasha didn’t stick out quite as much.  Rostov pointed out the leader to her, and she was pretty sure she recognized him from SHIELD’s watch list.  Remembering faces was an important skill in her business, even if it made the nightmares significantly worse.  If he was who she thought, that would make killing him that much easier.

After some mingling, during which she did her best to appear to belong, the meeting started.  It was filled with impassioned speeches using rhetoric she had heard many times before.  If anything, she felt more and more that her favor for Rostov was actually a good deed.  Assuming she could deal with the repercussions afterward, of course.  When getting rid of one leader, another would always pop up to replace him, for all the belief in that cutting off the head would kill the snake.  Civilians didn’t flock to these people if they were content to do nothing, and no longer having their leader would not suddenly make them happy to just go home.

She waited until none of the others were close enough to the leader’s platform to be hurt by the blast before setting off the bomb.  The head guy was severely injured; not dead, but unlikely to be leading the charge after this.  Pandemonium ensued, as expected.  Rostov valiantly led his people out of the wreckage and she followed.  Once everyone had gathered outside, he gave them an impassioned (short) speech about how they would be beset on all sides by their enemies and she hid a smile.  How many people were duped into thinking they were serving the greater good when it was just a power play on the part of their leaders?  Not that she hadn’t fallen for the same thing once or twice, she supposed.  But she’d learned from her mistakes, at great personal cost.

Her expression was appropriately afraid and then incensed while he spoke, and then she waited patiently for the others to head home when sirens could be heard.  Rostov gave her a nod dismissively, but she wasn’t about to leave.  Not without her information.  A look of annoyance passed over his face when she just smiled and didn’t move, but he didn’t say anything.  When most of his people had cleared off, he turned away from the site and she fell into step beside him.

“Can this wait?” he growled.

“Don’t want to be seen with me?  I’m hurt,” she replied sweetly.

He snorted.  “Fine, I called in my sources.  The information you want should be in my inbox by now.  I’ll send it to you as soon as I get home.”

Her laugh startled him into glancing hastily in her direction.  “Oh, I think you know better than that, Andre.”

“What do you want?” he snapped.

“I’m coming home with you, my friend.  When you’ve upheld your end of the bargain, I’ll leave.”

He looked around sharply when she referred to their arrangement.  “Can you keep it down?  Bozhe moi, I thought you were supposed to be subtle.”

“Oh, Andre,” she laughed, putting her hand on his shoulder flirtatiously.

Blinking, he shook his head and then continued walking.  “My house is just up here,” he said after a pause, seeming subdued.  She knew where he lived, of course, but she didn’t say anything, just followed him up the stairs and through the front door.  Not a lot of security, she took note of for later.  Just a deadbolt on the door and simple locks on the windows.  Not something she would expect from a former agent of the Red Room; paranoia was a fairly common side effect of the training.

It was a nice house, she reflected, despite the lack of security, and she wondered how he was able to afford it.  The information on him did not give him a regular job, and being part of a terrorist organization wasn’t generally lucrative.  She grew tense at the thought, wondering who might be bankrolling him, and what he might be willing to do for them.

“Andre, is that you?” a frail voice called from upstairs.

“Yes, Babushka, go back to sleep,” he responded with surprising gentleness.  “She wanted someone to keep her company in this big place,” he explained shortly in a whisper when he caught Natasha staring.

“Of course,” she agreed and followed him into the study.  He walked over to the computer and they waited in silence while it booted up.  A few keystrokes brought the information to the forefront and he frowned at it before sending it all to the printer.

“Well, I have some bad news for you, Natalia,” he said, his tone somewhere between mocking and actually sorrowful.

Reaching for the pages he held out, she met his eye.  “What is it?”

“Looks like you’re rapidly running out of competition for your codename.”


	7. I've Been Dancing With the Devil, I Love That He Pretends to Care

Natasha glared at Rostov before looking down at the sheets of information he’d given her.  Her reaction was not easy to keep concealed, but she’d had years of practice.  Only seven of them had left the Red Room alive: Vera, Anna, Irina, Yelena, Lucia, Mariya, and herself.  Rostov’s reports state that Yelena, as she knew, had been bounty-hunting until a recent attack in Germany had left her hospitalized.  It was somewhat exaggerated in terms of her injuries, but Natasha expected that was intentional on Yelena’s part.  Continuing through, Anna had remained working for Russia for a few years before going into private security details, body-guarding and the like.  No reported attacks on her yet.

The others were not so lucky.  Lucia had quit the business entirely, keeping herself busy with a dance studio.  Until a gas leak caused it to go up in smoke, her along with it, only a week earlier.  Vera had turned to vodka as a balm, spending time in and out of jail on manslaughter charges when she was involved in bar fights.  Two weeks ago, she’d been found hanging in her cell with her blankets wrapped around her neck.  Irina had stayed in the game, working for Russia all these years.  She’d been reported missing in action a month ago.  Mariya had turned her talents into being a freelance assassin, often hired by those affiliated with the mob to deal with rivals.  Her execution-style death might have been the result of her bosses not appreciating how she played the field, but Natasha had a sinking feeling there was more to it than that.

“Natalia,” Rostov said in a way that made her realize he’d been calling her for a while.

“Are you sure this is accurate?” she demanded, her tone harsher than intended.

He was grave.  “Yes.  I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he began.

“I need to get to Anna, now,” she told him sharply.

Something flickered in his eyes, but was gone before she could identify it.  “What about Yelena?”

She waved him off.  “I can handle this, Andre.”

“Can you?” he asked, matching her tone.

“What’s going on in here?” a quiet voice interrupted them.  Both turned to look at the old woman in the doorway, holding a tank of oxygen and wheezing at them.  “Andre, who is this?” she asked, looking Natasha up and down.

“Nothing to worry about,” he told her calmly.

Her attention hadn’t left Natasha, who forced a smile.  “He was just giving me some information on old friends of ours.”

“Those skinny devochki you used to spend so much of your time with?” she pressed.

“It’s not important, babushka.  Shouldn’t you be resting?”

The old woman was about to speak again, but fell into a coughing fit and had to sit down.  She closed her eyes as she inhaled carefully through the tubes attached to her.  Rostov waited in anxious silence, and Natasha looked between the two of them curiously.  The Red Room chose orphans for a reason.  Families were a distraction.  It seemed unlikely he would have been accepted, would have been promoted as far as he had been if they’d known about his grandmother.  She would have to look into that, though nothing in her previous research had suggested the existence of such a person.

“Let’s get you to bed.  Natalia was just leaving,” Andre said, the last part a little forceful.

“Your grandson has been very helpful,” Natasha called, heading to the front door and letting herself out with a wave.  Rostov frowned at her, but his grandmother waved back.  And Natasha thought she had a good solution in mind for her old friend.

 

Back in her hotel, she perused the documents, then did a little more research online into both Andre Rostov and Anna.  The latter now went by Helen Eddis, for whatever reason.  She was employed in Moscow by many of the rich who spent time there, from businessmen to celebrities.  Natasha was somewhat concerned to find that Gynacon was listed among her employers, given where Yelena had been attacked.  Of course, only a handful of employees had been at that party, and Anna had plenty of other clients.  Still, Natasha hadn’t lived this long because she’d ignored coincidences like that.

Time to consult her sources.

“Maria, how are you?” she asked pleasantly as soon as her former colleague answered.

“What do you want?”

“Any leads?”

Hill sighed heavily, and Natasha could hear the distinctive sounds of her typing something.  “Nothing pops on Ulyanov.  He was born in St. Petersburg, went to school in Moscow, and has kept a house there ever since.  Family fortune got him into school and into business with McMasters, as far as I can follow it.  His parents were killed when he was about four, and he was raised by an aunt, who passed away five years ago.  That’s all I could find on him.  What’s this all about, Nat?”

“Do you know anything about the Sword of Judgment?” Natasha asked instead of answering.

“Not much.  A radical group that’s been gaining traction in the last couple years.  They haven’t done anything big yet, just staged a lot of protests, started some riots.  No civilian casualties, so we haven’t been looking into them.  Why?  Should we?”

“No, I think I can take care of it.”

“Where are you?” Hill asked, exasperated.  “I shouldn’t be in contact with you like this,” she added quietly.

Natasha smiled sadly.  “I won’t get you in trouble, Maria.  I’ll be fine.  I’m sure you have plenty to worry about besides a former agent asking questions.  I won’t start any international incidences,” she promised.

Maria snorted at that.  “Good.  Well, stay safe out there.”

“You too.”

Ulyanov’s backstory was not particularly remarkable, and didn’t indicate that he was dirty.  Still, it was spare enough to be suspicious.  At least to her.  However, finishing Fury’s mission would have to wait – other things had come up.

“Fury.”

“I found the others, Nick.”

“Rostov talked.”

She snorted.  “With some encouragement, yeah.”

“And?”

“They’re gone, Nick.  All but three of us are gone.  Most under some mysterious circumstances in the last month or so.”

There was a pause.  She wondered if he understood what this meant to her.  “I see.  Who’s left?”

“Yelena, me, and Anna.  She’s in Moscow now.  I’m going to pay her a visit.”

“That seems wise.  You need any backup?”

“No, Nick.  I’m sure I can handle this.  Has Yelena resurfaced?”

“I haven’t heard anything.  She’s always been good at going to ground, though,” he replied, a hint of admiration in his tone.  “What else do you need from me?”

She considered.  “Can’t think of anything, Nick.”

“Well, Barnes won’t shut up about you, so stay safe out there.  I’ll get an earful if anything happens to you.”

“You’re right, that would be the worst part,” she agreed.  He laughed, and they said their goodbyes – short as always.

In the proceeding silence, she ran her fingers across the phone’s smooth surface and considered her next move.  Yelena was laying low somewhere, healing.  But maybe she should ask her to come to Moscow as soon as she could.  Natasha would feel better if they were all in one place.  Of course, that would make it easier for whoever was hunting them.

Feeling indecisive and groundless, she made another phone call before bed.

“Natalia,” James said, his tone somehow conveying more than his words would have.

“I’m fine,” she promised.  “A little off-mission right now, but I’ll be home as soon as I’m done.”

“Do you want any help?” he asked with forced nonchalance.

She smiled.  “No, milii moi.  I’ve got this.  Just wanted to check in.  How are things there?”

A pause told her more than he intended.  “Everything’s fine.  Looking forward to your return.”

“Alright.  Well, I’ve got to get some sleep.  I’ll talk to you when I can.  I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Feeling better, she closed her phone and got ready for bed.


	8. If I'll Ever Get to Heaven, When a Million Dollars Gets You There

_She was singing quietly, a half-remembered song from her childhood.  Her arms were wrapped around her belly and she was smiling, looking over at her husband.  He smiled in return, and touched her stomach._

_“It’s kicking,” he said, awed._

_“Yes, he is,” she replied, considerable pride in her tone._

_“I can’t wait to meet him,” he told her earnestly, pulling a blue ribbon out of his pocket and wrapping it around her fingers._

_She smiled, touched, then turned her attention back to the life growing inside her.  How amazing it was, to go from taking life to making it.  Her hands were stained red but this should go some way to washing them clean.  It hadn’t been easy, escaping the place where she’d spent most of her life.  But he was worth it._ They _were worth it.  She wouldn’t go back to that life.  Surely she could serve her beloved country some other way than killing enemies of the state.  That’s what he’d assured her, anyway._

_“Alexei,” she murmured, a sudden urgency in her tone._

_“I’m here, Natalia.  You’re safe now,” he assured her, taking her hand.  “They won’t take you back, now that I have you.  I won’t let them.  And they value me too highly to risk my displeasure,” he added with a self-deprecating wink._

_She smiled up at him; he was so handsome, so confident.  Reaching up to cup his cheek, she closed her eyes as she rubbed her belly.  This was going to be perfect._

_Natasha tried to cling to the moment, but her traitorous subconscious carried her forward, to when this pretty image shattered.  To when she woke up in a pool of blood, horrified that she could no longer feel the child moving inside of her._

_“Alexei!  Alexei!” she screamed, panicked._

_“Natalia, I’m here, you’re safe,” he told her, but his voice was shaken._

_“He’s gone, Alexei!” she cried, burying her face in his chest._

_He tried to console her, but both were consumed by grief._

_It was the last time she spoke to him, the last time she was in his arms, the last time she felt – felt_

Natasha woke herself up violently, jumping out of bed and grabbing her gun.  What had she been thinking?  That she’d never felt safe again, after she’d lost Alexei?  That wasn’t true.  It was a troubling thought.  Some of the impressions she had in her memories made her think they might have been implanted, but she had been sure of herself after leaving the Red Room.  They hadn’t taken her again after she’d escaped.

 

Dawn found her sitting by the window, absorbed in thought.  After Alexei had died, been killed in action, she’d fled Russia.  She’d known it was only a matter of time before her former masters exerted their influence and took her back.  Not that she left to do anything better, for a while.  Now she did better – now she did _good._ She worked with the Avengers, and with Captain America.  Perhaps the latter wouldn’t give her any points in another country, but she was wiping the red from her ledger, slowly but surely.

And, yesterday, she’d almost killed a man.  He’d deserved it, perhaps, but that wasn’t really her place to decide.  Afterward, she had done research on him and alleviated some of her guilt.  Still, the organization for which he was condemned was still alive and well, and under new management.  Or would be, soon enough.  She would have to act fast.  There were other pressing matters.

Leaving her hotel with all of her belongings, she headed a little ways out of town, a place to which she had not expected to return.

 

“Oh, and I must apologize again for disturbing you, Svetlana,” Natasha laughed, setting down her teacup in its saucer.

The old woman smiled broadly at her, adjusting her oxygen tubes.  “Not at all, Natasha.  I’m sure you young people don’t keep the same hours that I do.”

Smiling demurely, Natasha took another sip of tea.  “Your grandson has been very helpful, I hope you know,” she added.

“My Andre has been a good man as long as I’ve known him,” Svetlana affirmed, nodding at her teacup.

“Oh?  You haven’t known him since birth?”

“It’s a long story, my dear.”

Natasha smiled.  “I have the time, sweetie.”

The old woman flushed at the endearment.  “Well, I had to give up my daughter when I was young.  Andre tracked me down a few years ago,” she explained haltingly.

“Not so long a story,” Natasha murmured when Svetlana fell silent.

She rocked back and forth for a few moments, clearly somewhere else.  Then she cleared her throat and picked up her tea again.  “I’m sorry.  My daughter had just passed on, and Andre came looking for family.  I’m afraid I haven’t been what he was hoping for.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure he’s glad to have you,” Natasha said soothingly.

Svetlana offered her a grateful smile.  “So, do you have a family, Natalia?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“No one in your life, my dear?” she asked sympathetically.

Natasha shrugged.  “I have my work.  It has always been enough.”

The older woman scrutinized her for a long moment.  “Is that how you met my Andre?”

“Yes.”

“Then it must be a pleasant job,” Svetlana offered with a wink.

Laughing, Natasha shook her head.  “It’s not, but you make good friends when the job’s hard, I think.”  She waited while her elder began to nod, then close her eyes.  “Finally,” Natasha muttered, pulling out her purse.  Inside, there was an old leather pouch containing a syringe.  Without waking the woman, she inserted it carefully into her arm and pressed the hammer.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Rostov’s voice interrupted her.

Natasha smiled grimly as she finished her task before removing the implement and brandishing it in his direction.  “Have you brought the Sword of Judgment together yet?”

He was glaring at her, hands fisted at his sides.  “What did you do to her?” he growled.

“Andre.  I asked you a question.  I expect an answer.”

“No,” he spat.

Resuming her seat, she returned the syringe to its place.  “Then we still have time.  What exactly was your job in the Red Room?”

“Handler.  Contact.  Whatever they needed on the outside to make sure your missions went off without a hitch,” he told her after an angry pause.

“My missions?”

“The Black Widows’ missions,” he snarled, fists clenching as he took a step forward.

She pulled her gun out of her purse nonchalantly and he stopped moving.  “Was your role a violent one?”

His teeth ground together before he answered.  “No.”

“Good.  Then it won’t be any trouble for you to use nonviolent means to lead your people toward change.”

He snorted derisively.  “No trouble at all.”

She drank the last of her tea and got to her feet.  “Andre.  I don’t get the feeling you’re being sincere.”

“After what you did to her,” he began, staring forward.

With a sigh, she leveled her gun at Svetlana.  “What did I do?”

Sufficiently cowed, he stopped again, swearing under his breath.

“Andre.”

“Fine, we can stage nonviolent protests.”

Smiling coldly, she returned her gun to her purse.  “Good.  Here,” she tossed him the leather pouch.  “Give her a dose of this.  She’ll sleep for a while, but then she probably won’t need those tubes anymore.”

His eyes widened, anger disappearing for a moment.  “Is this…?”

“Yes.  Use it wisely.”  She strode confidently out of the room, then paused at the door as he pulled the vial out of the leather bag and looked at it, then his grandmother, then back.  “Don’t disappoint me, Andre.  You should know better than to underestimate what I’m capable of.  It would be a shame for your former leader to wake up and find out what you tried to do to him, don’t you think?”

“You little bitch,” he hissed, a snarl returned to his face at the implication.

Cocking an eyebrow, she poised herself to attack, smirking at the look of fear that passed over his expression when he noticed.  “What did you call me?” she questioned, voice low and full of an unspoken threat.

“Black Widow,” he murmured, beaten.

“ _The_ Black Widow,” she emphasized.  “Top of the class, Andre.  Don’t forget it.”  She waited for him to nod, then headed for the airport, to ensure that she wouldn’t be the last of that name.


	9. All the Time I Have Wasted Chasing Rabbits Down a Hole

The flight to Moscow provided Natasha with the time for a nap.  She hadn’t contacted Yelena yet, having been preoccupied with Andre Rostov.  She figured she would call her when she landed in the capitol.  Given that this had all started with the attack in Wiemar, Yelena would certainly know to keep herself out of danger.  The important thing was getting to Anna and ensure she wasn’t killed off like the others had surely been.

Anna hadn’t been as close to Natasha as she had been to Elena, but they had spent time together in their youth.  The final ten girls had been friendly to each other as the competitive edge had been diminished; the Red Room wanted a few skilled assassins, not just one.  Her childhood had not been like anyone else’s, but she felt that those years were the most normal, most pleasant.  Of course, that was partially because of a certain Soldier brought in to instruct them on his methods; though she didn’t usually think fondly of that time.  As much as she loved him now, they were different people then and their parting had been one of the worst in her life.  And she was never one to dwell on the past.

 

As soon as they touched down in Moscow, people started pulling out their phones.  Natasha adjusted her hat, large enough to provide her some cover, and did the same.  It wasn’t that simple to call Yelena as it was her other friends, perhaps since their lives tended to be a bit more stable.  She had to leave a message with her current burner phone number and wait for Yelena to call her back.  It never took very long for the turnaround, and today was no different.

By the time Natasha had deplaned, an unknown number was calling.

“Bonjour,” she said pleasantly.

“Got your message, Nat.  What’s up?” Yelena asked in English, sounding a little stressed.

“Is this a bad time?”

She snorted.  “No more than usual.”

“Alright.  Well, I talked to an old friend about my sister.”

“Yeah?”

Natasha cleared her throat, glancing around surreptitiously before ducking into the bathroom.  Heading to the mirror, she checked her appearance casually while she contemplated how to put her answer.  “I’m going to visit her now for her birthday.  I was hoping to bring along some company, but I couldn’t.”

There was a pause.  “Couldn’t?” Yelena queried softly.

“No one else was available.  It’ll be a pretty dull party without you.”

“I see.  Well,” Yelena cleared her throat when her voice wavered.  “I’ll see if I can swing by.  Send me the invitation.”

Natasha smiled at her reflection, then left the bathroom.  “Sounds great.  If you’re bringing a plus one, please let me know.”

“I will.”

“See you soon.”

“Yeah, soon as I can.”

Tucking her phone into the outside pocket of her purse, Natasha moved through the crowd casually headed for the baggage claim.  Once she’d picked up her suitcase, in which her arsenal was carefully hidden using some advanced SHIELD tech, she made her way to the taxi drop-off.  Adopting the characteristics of a slightly tipsy tourist, she directed the man to the nearest five-star hotel in terrible Russian.  The man smiled at her and complied.  Natasha always found it helpful to set up a base of operations before engaging with anyone.

The hotel to which she was taken was one of the nicest in the city; she was relatively certain she had been there before.  Moscow was a frequent stop for her regardless of her employer.  Even SHIELD had sent her to Russia more often than not.  Pushing her thoughts of the past away, she focused on finding Anna; it would help her sleep if she found her today, still alive.  Then, if the three of them could be together, she might actually get a good night’s rest before this was all over.

Helen Eddis, of Security International, was not available for an appointment for another month, Natasha was informed by her secretary over the phone.  Posing as a family member (not entirely a lie) gave her little more access, which was a bit unusual in Natasha’s experience.  Of course, most other times she had tried that tactic, the person in question actually had family members.  Anna was, as far as Natasha could tell, quite alone.  In any case, she gleaned enough to know that the former Widow was at her office and, at this point, still alive and well.

The building where SI kept its offices was only a few blocks from Natasha’s hotel, so she geared up and headed over there on foot.  She always found it wise to limit how much traceable transportation she used while on an assignment, thus walking was her usual MO.  At least, it had been when she’d worked for SHIELD.  She found herself in quinjets or something similar more and more often now, either scouting ahead for the other Avengers or arriving with them.  Subtlety was not their forte.

No one on the street gave her any reason to be suspicious, and she made it to the building without mishap.  It was a pretty place, and she paused to admire the scenery when the guard at the door gave her a look.

“Excuse me, sir, but my employer sent me here on urgent business with the security company,” she told him shyly.

He cleared his throat gruffly.  “Appointment only, if you don’t have an ID badge,” he told her, relenting somewhat.

“I see.  But it’s really an emergency, and I’ll lose my job if I don’t get in there,” she murmured, leaning toward him with tears in her eyes.

Biting his lip for a moment, he glanced over his shoulder.  “Who are you here to see?”

“Helen Eddis.  If I could just speak to her, I know she’ll be remember me and my employer, and will want to drop everything,” she said truthfully.

Perhaps her honesty won him over, because he pulled out his walkie-talkie.  “Is the boss available?”

The answer was obscured by static, but Natasha was certain there was an affirmative response. 

“I’ve got a young lady here, a –” he paused, looking over at her.

“Natalie Rushman,” she offered, praying that Anna would recognize the name.  She didn’t think she’d used it in her Red Room days, but it was similar to the real thing.  Hopefully similar enough.  And she hadn’t used it in several years, so hopefully it didn’t tip anyone else off.

“Natalie Rushman.  She says it’s an emergency.”

“Copy,” the distorted voice said.

The guard frowned down at it, then looked up at her.  “Your employer?”

“Andre Rostov.”  Anna was sure to remember that name, and would connect the dots.  They had all been well-trained in these kinds of games, after all.

“Says she works for Andre Rostov,” the guard told the disembodied voice.

There was a pause while this was presumably passed along and Natasha rocked back and forth to show her nervousness.  “Send her up,” the voice said finally.

“Oh, thank you so much!” she gushed, hugging the guard briefly.

He looked a little dazed when she stepped back, as a slow smile grew on his face.  “My pleasure, ma’am.  Good luck in there.”  Leaning over, he swiped his ID to gain access to the building, then held the door open for her.

“Thank you!” she called as she hurried inside.  A few faces from the front desk glanced her way, and a tall, thin woman walked over to escort her.

“Miss Rushman?  This way, please,” the woman said.

Natasha followed her to the elevator bay, which lay immediately inside to the right of the front door.  There was a corridor there, but no sign of movement that she could see.  The elevator doors closed before she could get a better look, which was unnecessary, anyway.  She just liked to have a good picture of what she was walking into.  Unsurprisingly, the woman was silent on the ride, and Natasha saw no reason to break that silence.  If she were someone’s assistant, rushing here urgently, it might be reasonable to ease her nervousness by chattering away.  However, it being a security firm, Natasha felt it more likely that she’d be quiet and keep her boss’ private issues to herself.

In any case, they arrived at the top floor and the woman motioned for her to get off, showing no signs of suspicion or concern.  She didn’t leave the elevator when Natasha did, and went back down presumably to the ground floor without another word.  The room in which Natasha had been deposited was large and spacious, with windows from floor to ceiling.  Standing in front of one of them, looking out, was a familiar figure.


	10. When I Was Born to Be the Tortoise, I Was Born to Walk Alone

Anna’s hair was still the same dark brown, but cropped short to just brush her shoulders.  Unsurprisingly, she was no longer as thin as she had been when Natasha had last seen her (they weren’t ballerinas anymore).  Her sheath dress was slate grey and hugged her shape becomingly; Natasha wasn’t sure that the head of a security company would want to project that image, but it clearly was working out for her.  When the elevator closed, Anna turned around a smiled, her green eyes sparkling.

“I thought it was you.  It’s been a long time,” she said almost shyly.

“It has,” Natasha agreed, taking a few steps forward, surprised at how relieved she was to see the girl she had once known safe and sound.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Anna glanced at the ground, then met Natasha’s eye.  “I’m sure you’re not here just to exchange pleasantries.  I hear you’re kept pretty busy these days.”

“Well, you know me.  I hate having free time,” Natasha replied, tentatively walking over to stand beside the other woman.

Anna laughed.  “I do remember that about you, Natalia.”

“Anna, I’m here because you’re in danger.  We all are.”

“Danger?  This is one of the best security firms in the world,” Anna began, looking skeptical.

Natasha shook her head and fought the urge to shake her friend as well.  “I’m sure that’s why they haven’t gotten to you yet, but I’m afraid we’re being targeted,” she corrected a little more harshly than intended.

“Targeted?” Anna gasped.

“Yes.”

The shocked expression on Anna’s face faded and she became very serious.  “It seems like you have a lot to tell me.  Why don’t I order some tea and we’ll find somewhere more comfortable to talk.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Natasha replied, feeling relieved.

 

There was a nice enough conference room on the same floor, and the woman who had escorted Natasha earlier reappeared with tea to lead them inside.  Anna dismissed her, and took the seat at the head of the table.  After a pause, Natasha sank into the one beside her, considering what she really knew about this woman.  They hadn’t been friends, not particularly; just accepted that they were allies toward the end.  No word on her had met Natasha’s ears in all the long years since she had escaped the Red Room to be with Alexei, short-lived as that had been.  Putting all her trust in Anna was not a wise course, but she wasn’t sure how much she should divulge.

Sensing her hesitance, Anna offered her a smile as she poured the tea.  “So, I’ve heard all about your exploits in the last few years.  I must say, I am impressed.”

Natasha returned the expression.  “I’m sure it’s been oversold.  I’m just doing my job.”

“Saving the world?”

“Sometimes,” she answered with a shrug.  “How long have you been in the security game?”

Anna fixed her with a look that Natasha remembered all too well learning in her youth, and she wondered what secrets the other woman could read on her face.  “What memories do you have?”

Natasha blinked at her, thrown by the question.  “What do you mean?”

“Have you gotten it all back or are parts missing?” she clarified.

“Parts are missing.  But I don’t think there is anything important that I’ve lost.”

Anna snorted.  “Yes, that’s how I always feel before something comes back in a dream that I don’t understand,” she said with surprising bitterness.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Natasha offered.

“No, it’s fine.  Were you still around when Elena… when we lost Elena?”

Natasha shook her head.  “I’m sorry,” she added, surprised at how close to tears Anna was at the reference.

“It shouldn’t have been…  It wasn’t that big of a mission.  Just getting information from some old man with a loose tongue, nothing we hadn’t done plenty of times before.”  She looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap.  “Anyway, she must have been made, because his people took her into custody.  And… you know what our orders were in that eventuality.”

The anger in Anna’s tone was understandable, and Natasha reached for her hand.  “There wasn’t anything you could have done,” she said soothingly.

Anna barked out a laugh.  “No?  Well, I’m afraid I went rogue when I got the news.  Took care of that asset so he wouldn’t hurt any more girls.  Our bosses, Madame in particularly, were not pleased with me.”

“I can imagine her ire,” Natasha put in when Anna didn’t immediately continue.  They exchanged a smile in reminiscence.

“Anyway, Elena was the last one who …  Things had been going downhill, ever since you left.  And then we lost three more.  So there was a lot of pressure from above.  I guess…  I guess what I did was the last straw.  The program was dissolved after that.”

“And I’m sure they just let you all out the front door and waved goodbye.”

The image elicited a real laugh from Anna, and she shook off her distress, sitting up again and tossing her hair over her shoulder.  “Exactly!  I always knew you were good with the details.”

Natasha laughed as well, leaning back in her chair.  “So, what was their plan for the remaining master spies they’d created?”

Staring into the middle distance, Anna shrugged.  “Well, who knows.  We were lucky not to be sent off to Siberia.  Madame arranged for us to be offered jobs in the intelligence community.  We all took them initially, but I don’t think many of us stayed.  I haven’t kept in touch with any of them, I’m afraid.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Natasha began, but thought better of moving their conversation onto more pressing matters.  She had the time, and wanted to learn more about her before revealing too much.

“Anyway, I worked a few odd jobs for a while.  I even tried dancing.  It wasn’t… very lucrative.  But it got me some of the right contacts and I was able to parlay that into running security for them.”

“Really?  That’s impressive.”

Anna smiled self-effacingly.  “Well, it was alright.  It was no Avengers initiative.  But I’ve done what I can.  I train and provide body guards for anyone who can afford my prices,” she said with a wink.  “Not that I personally do the training anymore, of course.”

“No, you’re a powerful businesswoman now,” Natasha agreed, prompting a laugh.

“So, fill in the blanks for me.  You left us to… get married?”

“Yes.”

Her face must have shown her discomfort at the memory, because Anna expression changed to sympathetic.  “That didn’t work out for you, and you went fell back on your training for a while.  Took our name for your own and made it famous.  At least in the community.  But then somehow SHIELD bought your loyalty, and you went to America.”  She paused, waiting for Natasha to explain, but she just smiled faintly.  “Which is how you ended up working with Captain America and Iron Man and everyone, becoming a superhero in your own right.”

Natasha laughed at that.  “I think that’s going a little far.”

Anna smiled.  “Don’t underestimate yourself, Nat.  That’s what everyone else does.”

“True,” she replied, sobering.

“And things got messy with the other superheroes, and you’ve been lying low ever since then.  At least, as far as I can tell.  I haven’t heard anything concrete.”

“Nothing?”

“Well, there are rumors you’re involved with Captain America,” Anna suggested, with a giggle.

Natasha sat up straight and acted offended.  “People are gossiping about my relationship status all the way over here?  How appalling,” she sniffed, and Anna laughed again.  Before she could continue, some kind of explosion rocked the building and all she knew was noise and flames.  Then everything went black.


	11. I'm Gonna Leave the Past Behind, I've Had Enough, I'm Breaking Free

Waking up was painful, like she’d been dead.  Or nearly.  Something heavy was on top of her – the table.  She pushed it aside with difficulty, and was aware of broken porcelain littering the floor.  A bomb?  Anna!  She looked around frantically in the wreckage of the room – it was fortunate that they were on the top floor, so there was a limited amount of debris to fall on them.  The chairs were strewn around, most broken, and the door was gone.  She spotted Anna under one of the more unaffected chairs and hurried over.

“Anna!  Wake up,” she hissed as she pulled the chair aside.  To her immense relief, the woman began to stir, grimacing.

“Natalia?” she coughed out, looking around in shock.

Natasha pulled her friend into a sitting position and took in their surroundings.  “It looks like the bomb went off in your office.”

“Good thing we were out here, then,” Anna replied sardonically.

Sparing a smile, Natasha turned to look for a way out of the room.  “Who knows your schedule?”

“Too many people, Nat.  I wasn’t careful enough.” The tone of Anna’s answer was just like Natasha remembered it being in the Red Room, when she’d made an error and had to explain it.

“Were you supposed to be meeting with someone before I interrupted you?” she pressed as she pulled her Glocks out of her purse, having found it in the rubble, and tossed one to Anna.

The latter caught it easily, though she winced slightly at the sudden movement.  “I’m sure the schedule’s full, as always.  I told Adrienne to cancel everything when I heard it was you at my door.”

“I’m flattered,” Natasha responded, glancing at Anna, who nodded.  Both got silently to their feet and headed for the doorway.  Much of the ceiling and walls had fallen around them, but that portal was more or less intact.  Enough to get out of here, back to the elevator.  Natasha led the way, though she could see her friend’s change in vocation had not made her rusty.  Working in tandem, they moved forward silently, on guard for further attack.  It was unlikely that someone had left a bomb and an assassin, but it never hurt to be too careful.  They traversed the twenty yards to the elevator, Natasha reflecting that it seemed an infinitely longer distance going this way than it had before, and both of them froze when the apparatus made a gentle ding.

After a quick look in Anna’s direction, Natasha ducked behind the nearest cover, a chair, and checked to make sure her friend had done the same.  The doors opened, and the woman from before stepped out.  Adrienne, Natasha supposed.

“Ms. Eddis?” the woman asked, looking shocked enough that Natasha did not expect she had been a part of the plot.  Not that she should be ruled out, of course.

“I’m here, Adrienne,” Anna said, glancing Natasha’s way before standing up.  When Adrienne didn’t make any attempt to finish the job started by the bomb, Natasha stood up as well, though she kept her gun at the ready.

“What’s going on?” Adrienne wanted to know, considerably startled by the sight of the two armed women.

Ushering her assistant back into the elevator, Anna pushed the button for the ground floor and let out a sigh when the three were safely on their way.  “Seems I have an unsatisfied customer.  Good thing my friend and I were in the conference room instead of my office.”

“Yes,” Adrienne replied in the ensuing silence, looking dazed.  “Yes, well, your one o’clock canceled anyway, so you haven’t missed anything.”

“Who canceled?” Natasha asked sharply.

The assistant looked from one to the other before answering.  “Mr. Ulyanov, of Gynacon.”

A strangled laugh escaped Natasha, prompting a vaguely offended look from Adrienne and a curious one from Anna.  “Well, I’m sure I’ll meet with him later.  In the meantime, I think I’ll be taking the afternoon off.  I’m sure the authorities will want to get in my office, but please also schedule a contractor as soon as possible to repair the damage,” Anna ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.  Where can I reach you?” Adrienne questioned, pulling out a tablet from her suit pocket, poised to take down information.

After visually consulting with Natasha, Anna gave her assistant a grim smile.  “I think I’ll be calling you when I get the chance.”  The elevator opened, and the three women strode across the front lobby.  Adrienne opened the front door, Natasha slipping out first with a broad smile at the guard.  He looked startled by her no doubt ruffled appearance, and more so when Anna appeared in the same condition.

“Anything else, ma’am?” Adrienne asked.

“Probably, but I think I’d like to get off the street as soon as possible.  Keep your phone on, expect it to be an unavailable number.  I’m sure I can trust you to keep things running as smoothly as possible until I return?”

“Of course.”

Anna nodded, then turned to Natasha.  “Lead the way.”

Before she could do so, the guard stopped them.  “Ma’am, are you sure you’re alright with her?” he wanted to know.

“Yes.  Don’t tell the police you saw us leave, and certainly don’t tell them you let my friend in the front door.”

“But, ma’am,” he began.

Anna stood at her full height, managing to stare him down from several inches below his eye line.  Natasha hid a smile; she couldn’t remember the girl Anna had once been having the strongest of backbones.  It was nice to see this side of her.  Of course, Natasha reasoned, to have survived the Red Room meant Anna was made of sterner stuff than most anyone on the planet.  Particularly given their recently reduced number.

“Sorry,” the guard mumbled, looking at the ground.

Satisfied, Anna strode away confidently, ignoring the police cars that were arriving.  Natasha caught up with her and decided it was time to make a phone call.

 

Though it took a few taxi rides with considerable doubling back, the two of them made it safely to Natasha’s hotel.  In the meantime, they had stopped to change into more suitable clothing; or rather, less suitable.  Anna’s dress and Natalia’s jeans were traded for sundresses, and the women entered the hotel with enough giggles to imply they’d been enjoying their vacation fully despite it being long before five o’clock.  They attracted attention, but not the kind that would lead the trouble later; people were generally blind to details when it came to a group of girls.  Conversely, it would have been easier if there were more of them to avoid notice, but Natasha felt relatively confident about their charade.

Finally, they reached the safety of Natasha’s room, and both immediately sobered.

“You knew that would happen?” Anna questioned.

It wasn’t accusatory, which was gratifying.  “I suspected,” Natasha replied as she did a thorough sweep of the room while Anna waited by the door.

“I see.”

“Look, I didn’t think my timing would be so good, or I would have brought it up earlier.”

Anna sighed.  “I knew it wasn’t a social call.  I just thought you came for information on one of my clients or something.”

“Well, if that’s an option, I’m sure I’ll appreciate it in the future.  But, no, I came for you, my friend,” Natasha said, finishing her search and briefly taking Anna’s hand.

Smiling, she moved further into the room and took a seat near the closed window.  “You always were surprisingly sentimental.”

“Was I?” Natasha asked, taken aback.

“Well, you know, for one of us.  Particularly about that one instructor we –” Anna stopped herself, eyes wide.

Natasha drew up a chair next to her.  “What is it?”

“I…  I know they didn’t want you to remember that.  Do you, though?” she asked softly, searching Natasha’s face.

“Yes.  I’ve… had reason to remember.”

Anna frowned a little, clearly not getting a good read.  “What reason?”

Glancing away, Natasha cleared her throat.  “I moved in with him recently,” she answered, deadpan.  When she saw the look on Anna’s face, she laughed.  “He’s quite changed from then.  As are we all.  Perhaps you can visit some time.”

“Perhaps,” Anna echoed, bemused.

“More pressingly, it seems that we are being targeted,” Natasha began, before being interrupted by the buzz of her phone.  She pulled it out of her purse and smiled.

“Who is it?”

“Help.”


	12. No Pressing Stop, Erase, Rewind, That Chain of Thought That Followed Me

Natasha merely relayed their location, not what had happened, to Yelena, and then the two of them settled down to wait for her to arrive.  Both were tired and sank into companionable silence, agreeing nonverbally that their discussion would benefit from having all parties present.  Anna was staring at the floor, deep in thought, and Natasha looked her way occasionally to check her status.

“It’s been a while since anyone tried to kill you, I take it?” she asked lightly after a while.

Startled, Anna glanced up at her sharply, then smiled slowly.  “I must be getting rusty,” she agreed.

“Must be nice,” Natasha offered.

“Hmm,” Anna responded, clearly back where ever she had been before being interrupted.

Natasha couldn’t remember her friend often being lost in thought; it wasn’t something the Red Room had encouraged, or really accepted.  A spy had to be hyperaware, even when somewhere supposedly safe.  But maybe Anna had learned not to be like that all the time, which would be impressive.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Only marginally less startled this time, Anna shook her head briefly to clear it.  “I was just… marveling.  At you.  You found me.  Yelena.  The Soldier.  Who else is coming to the reunion?”

Her reaction must have been too obvious on her face, because Anna’s teasing expression fell into one much more serious.

“What is it?”

“The others…  None of the other Widows survived,” Natasha responded haltingly.

Anna gave a slow blink, then frowned.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean someone’s after us, and they’ve been pretty damn successful so far.”

“Oh.”

Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair.  “I was with Yelena when she was attacked, and one of the thugs said they were after the Widows.  So I’ve been trying to track everyone down, and you were the only one they hadn’t gotten to yet.”

After nodding hesitantly, Anna’s expression melted into a business-like mask.  “And then you saved my life like the superhero you are.”

“I wouldn’t say I saved your life.  I just happened to move you from where they thought you would be; hardly intentional,” Natasha replied.

“What are we going to do?”

“Find who did this and make them pay.”

 

The knock at the door was distinctive, and Natasha went to open it, smiling in relief when she saw Yelena in the doorway, none the worse for wear.

“You made it.”

Yelena looked her up and down, then glanced back at Anna.  “Yeah.  You look like you’ve been through hell,” she said as she slipped into the room and bolted the door behind her.

“We look fine; you should have seen us two hours ago,” Natasha retorted, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Yelena gave a short laugh.  “I’m sure it’s a vast improvement,” she agreed.  “So, tell me, what did I miss?”

“Well, I went to visit Anna here, and someone decided to redecorate her office while we were next door.  We missed most of the blast, and we got out of there quickly,” Natasha told her nonchalantly.

Yelena raised an eyebrow, then turned to the other woman.  “How you holding up?”

“Just fine.  Natasha was telling me how rusty I’ve gotten about this kind of thing,” Anna told her with an almost-shy smile.  “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too,” Yelena replied with a similar expression.  “It’s been a long time.”

“How is, um, hunting bounties?”

“It was going quite well until this one came to visit,” Yelena motioned toward Natasha, who looked offended.  “But I’m sure you understand what that’s like.”

Anna laughed out loud.  “You’re right, I was just minding my own business, which is growing, by the way, when she shows up and now my office is in pieces.”

Both women ignored Natasha’s noises of protest, and Yelena nodded, commiserating.  “I hear you.  I was looking for this guy at a party, Nat shows up, and suddenly we’re fighting off a bunch of armed goons!  I think we found our common thread in this mystery,” she added, giving Natasha a dark look.

“Maybe I should have just left you with the goons,” Natasha threatened.

“Don’t lie, girl, you always were a softie.  You’d never hurt one of us,” Yelena responded with a shrug.

Natasha shook her head.  “Always?  You mean when we were kids, being trained to seduce and kill people?”

“I think that’s overstating,” Anna put in.  “We learned many valuable skills.”

The other two laughed, and she grinned.  “That’s true, look how diverse we are now: a security expert, a bounty hunter, a superhero,” Yelena said, motioning to each of them in turn.

“Hey, you both chose those professions.  I’m just a spy,” Natasha insisted.

“Always Madame’s best student,” Anna intoned, causing Yelena to laugh out loud, breaking character.

“She was, wasn’t she?  Setting the standards so high, making life difficult for the rest of us,” Yelena said, shaking her head when she finished laughing.

Natasha snorted.  “That wasn’t my intention,” she began.

“No, and you were pretty humble about it, all things considered,” Anna interrupted.  “Now, we can tease Natalia’s character faults to our hearts’ content once we’ve dealt with our impending assassinations,” she added, looking at each of them intently.

Natasha smiled, remembering that Anna had been one of the first recruits in the Red Room and had shown them around for years when they were young.  “Well, I was sent to check out Gynacon CEO Ian McMasters, who was at a party where Yelena had been lured with a seemingly bad tip.  And one of the other execs, Vassily Ilyich Ulyanov, whose past is shrouded in mystery, canceled his meeting with Helen here today, and she narrowly avoided being blown up.  Seems like we have a pretty good lead,” Natasha said, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’ve met Ulyanov before.  I did get an odd read on him,” Anna offered.  “Though shifty behavior is pretty normal in my clients.”

Yelena offered her a sympathetic look.  “Well, while you two were off having adventures, I looked into all the companies represented at that party, including Gynacon, which was definitely the most suspicious.  If I remember correctly, they haven’t done anything too shady, but have been investing more and more in recent biotechnology breakthroughs.  After some digging, I found that they started out after acquiring some land outside of Volgograd that I’m sure all of us would find familiar.”

“What do you mean?” Anna wanted to know, looking at Natasha then back at Yelena.

“It’s where we ‘graduated,’” Natasha guessed, voice dripping with disdain for the term.

Yelena nodded.  “I guess Ulyanov got his hands on some of the tech they used on us and roped McMasters into bankrolling it.  With McMasters’ other investments, they were able to keep their experiments mostly off the books, just showing their results.  Gynacon isn’t squeaky clean, but hasn’t been of interest to any authorities.”

“Until recently,” Natasha put in.  “Fury sent me to investigate them for HYDRA affiliations,” she explained to Anna.

“So, it looks like I need to reschedule with Ulyanov as soon as possible,” the latter said with a grim smile.

The other two mimicked the expression.  “Let’s get to work,” Natasha suggested.


	13. I've Put My Money Where My Mouth Is For the First Time In My Life

Eventually, the Black Widows finished sketching out a plan for the next day.  It took longer than expected because they kept getting off-track.  None of them spent much time with other people of the same age, and certainly not with anyone who had such a similar background.  It was novel to be so easily connected to another person, let alone two, and the three of them enjoyed it while they had the opportunity.  Anna finally insisted they get some sleep, and exhaustion took over quickly after that.

In the morning, Natasha was the first one awake.  Her phone was blinking, so she went into the bathroom and shut the door to check it.  A message from Pepper, just saying to call back; it had slipped her mind that she’d reached out to her earlier.  Checking the time and calculating briefly, she decided to give her a ring.

“Potts.”

“Hey, Pepper.”

“Oh!  Natasha!  I’m glad I heard from you.  I was starting to get worried,” the CEO of Stark Industries told her, sounding quite relieved.

Natasha smiled.  “That’s sweet of you.  I’m fine.  What’s up?”

“I looked into Ulyanov.  There’s not much on him, and I had to follow the money trail for a while before it was anything besides dummy companies that sprang up right before being used.”

“Pretty standard,” Natasha offered when Pepper didn’t immediately continue.

“Sorry, a little busy here.  Anyway, Ulyanov got his fortune from the Russian government.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed.  “That’s unusual.”

“I thought so; be careful.  The connection is pretty old; I don’t think they’ve funded him for some time.  But that’s how he came into the picture after some sort of accident.  I couldn’t find anything else, I’m afraid,” Pepper added, apologetic.

“It’s fine, Pepper, every little bit helps.”

“Keep me in the loop, Nat.”

“I’ll certainly tell you all about it when I’m done,” Natasha offered.

Pepper sighed.  “Fine, just stay safe.  Bucky’s just terrible at hiding how worried he is about you,” she teased.  “It’s distracting the whole team.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure something out.  Thank you, Pepper,” she said sincerely.

“You’re welcome, Nat.”

Natasha hung up her phone and considered this new development.  It was very suspicious and she considered that they might have stumbled onto something larger than just the three of them.  Of course, if Gynacon was targeting Widows and was, at least tangentially, funded by the government, it might be a cover-up operation to destroy all records of what Department X had been allowed to do.  Which meant more than just the three of them were in danger.

“Natalia?” Anna’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yeah, didn’t want to disturb anyone,” Natasha explained as she opened the door.

Yelena was getting up as well, though the room was still dark.  “We should get a move on.”

 

After Natasha related the conversation she’d had with Pepper, they agreed that Yelena should follow the thread of the bounty she’d been chasing when this all started.  Anna and Natasha would meet with Ulyanov as soon as possible to question him, Natasha posing as Anna’s bodyguard.  Hopefully, Natasha would be able to get herself hired by Ulyanov, or at least by Gynacon, and could learn more that way.  It wasn’t a perfect plan, of course, but it was a good start.

After a quick breakfast and a stop at a clothing store, Natasha and Anna arrived at Security International.  Adrienne met them at the door, looking very relieved.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” she said, glancing at Natasha with some suspicion.

“This is Nadja Rothbauer, an old friend and a skilled bodyguard.  After the incident yesterday, I thought it would be wise to have her around, don’t you?” Anna asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Adrienne led them to the elevator, frowning at any of the employees in the lobby who stared after them.  “The police want to talk to you,” she murmured once the elevator doors were closed.

Anna waved her hand dismissively.  “Spin it as a maintenance issue.  I want business to continue as usual.  Even if it means taking over a different office,” she added with a grin.  Adrienne smiled in return, though Natasha kept a serious façade.

“I’ll see what I can do.  Will you be accepting meetings today, then?”

“Yes.  One in particular, if you can manage it.  Gynacon cancelled their appointment yesterday.  I’d like to see them today.”

Adrienne nodded, entering something into her tablet.  “Any representative in particular?”

“One of the men in charge, of course.  One of them is Russian, I think?” she guessed convincingly.

“Yes, a Vassily Ilyich Ulyanov owns half of the company.  Ian McMasters is his partner.”

Anna nodded thoughtfully.  “Well, I’d prefer to talk to Ulyanov.  See what you can do, Adrienne.  Send in the rest of my appointments as usual,” she ordered, stepping out of the elevator and calmly across the open space toward an office on the other side.  It was a similar floor plan to the one above, where her old office had been.  Natasha was impressed to see, when they entered it, that it had been recreated as closely as possible to the destroyed version, with most of the papers and materials present that she had seen the day before.

From the look on Anna’s face, she was as pleased as Natasha was impressed.  “Wonderful work, Adrienne.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Well, let’s get started,” the CEO said, sitting down at her desk.

The day passed slowly for Natasha, who took a spot slightly behind and to the right of Anna.  Chairs were offered to her on several occasions, but she turned them down.  Her job as a bodyguard meant being vigilant, and, after everything that had happened, she was going to take the task quite seriously.  Ulyanov was not available that day, but they set up a meeting at his office for the following afternoon.

When the sun was just setting, Anna declared the day over and the two of them returned to the hotel to rest.  Yelena was not there, and had left no message, so they had little choice but to continue their assignment as best as they could.  Sleep mostly evaded Natasha as she fretted about what the solution to their dilemma was, and how to put an end to this.

Finally, it was morning and the two of them headed to the office to get to work.  Anna was almost jittery and unfocused all day, clearly concerned about how the Ulyanov meeting would go.  Adrienne noticed the aberrant behavior, but didn’t comment; she no doubt suspected it was related to the incident.  Natasha watched the other employees closely, but found no one to be particularly suspicious.  If this lead fell through, she didn’t know what their next options were.  Take the others back to New York and enlist the help of Nick Fury and/or the Avengers, she supposed.  James would certainly be happy to lend a hand, and she’d considered calling him at several points along the way.  But he was Captain America now, with plenty to do in his own country.  Besides, she could handle this.  For now, at least.

After a brief lunch, Anna, Adrienne, and Natasha got into Anna’s luxury car, and her driver took them over to the Gynacon building.  It was an impressive structure, and the three of them were escorted by a handsome assistant up to the top floor, where they were asked to wait in a sitting room.

“Here is the presentation, ma’am,” Adrienne said, handing over a USB drive.  “Unless you’d like me to present?” she questioned, seeing the hesitation on Anna’s face.

“Not at all, dear, I’m sure I’ll be fine.  I think, for a company of this size, they will need a personal touch, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The doors at the other end of the room opened, and Natasha immediately stood back up to assess the situation.  Joining the handsome assistant who had led them there was a man not much older than she was, wearing a very fancy suit.  Some scarring on the side of his face threw her off, but his startled smile froze her in her tracks.

“Why, Ms. Eddis, I had no idea you knew my wife.”


	14. I've Made Mistakes, But I Believe That Everything Was Worth the Fight

Everyone in the room turned sharply to look at Natasha, who stared at the man she’d though dead.  She was aware that some of her shock was showing in her expression, and made an effort to hide it at the sight of the pained smile on the man wearing Alexei’s face.

“Ms. Eddis and I have known each other for a long time,” she said, managing to sound convincingly casual.

“I see,” Ulyanov or Alexei or whoever responded slowly.  Then he turned his attention to Anna and smiled distantly.  “I’m sure Natalia and I can catch up later.  Let’s hear the presentation you have prepared,” he said magnanimously.

Anna checked with Natasha, who gave a curt nod.  Then she launched into the prepared spiel.  Natasha paid it little attention, unable as she was to take her eyes off the man she’d loved, married, lost.  Could it really be him?  His mannerisms were infinitely familiar; his voice and face matched what she felt in her bones.  It could be a trick; they could have implanted the whole thing for some useful purpose, though she couldn’t imagine what that could be.  And those memories had never once struck her as false; she’d learned to differentiate between what was real and what was implanted pretty well over the years.  Something this big couldn’t have slipped past her radar.

Her body was cold, stiff, and her mind couldn’t quite get a grasp on what was happening.  They were here to question him about the attack, though not be obvious about it.  She should be coming up with something to say to get him to talk.  That was her forte.  But she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.  Of all the things she had done, lived through, endured, this was the worst.  She had been prepared for him to be a monster, to be killing her sisters for all kinds of imagined reasons.  Or to be being blackmailed for some indiscretion, or otherwise coerced into being involved with the company that seemed to want her dead.  But not this.  Even though she’d been seeing several long-absent faces recently, nothing could have prepared her for this.

In the Red Room, she’d first fallen in love with the man who was the Winter Soldier.  When he was taken from her, it had been made clear to her that love was not going to be part of her life.  She had no place in the world; she couldn’t, if she wanted to make a difference as one of the invisible assets for her country.  Though she had always excelled in her classes, always been one of the best in any part of the training program, she grew tired of it.  So when she met pilot and media darling Alexei Shostakov while under cover, she hadn’t discouraged the continued connection.

How long had it taken?  Support for their match was offered by his superiors but not hers, and it took some time before they had managed to get married.  She’d loved him, she thought, but maybe she just loved the idea of having a normal life and leaving her dark, bloody past behind.  She knew now that wasn’t possible.  And she wondered how she could have deluded herself into thinking she could be a housewife for a military man; making him dinner, doing his laundry, raising his –

“Natasha,” Anna hissed.

She snapped her eyes onto her friend, looking briefly apologetic.  “Yes?”

“You’ll have to forgive her inattention, Ms. Eddis.  I’m sure this reunion was unexpected,” Alexei said, sounding just like Natasha knew he would.

“Of course,” Anna responded diplomatically, giving Ulyanov a fake smile before returning her attention to Natasha.  “Is there anything you’d like to add?” she asked, almost entreating.

Natasha’s mind was blank, and she looked between the two of them helplessly for a moment.  “Perhaps Al – Mr. Ulyanov and I could meet later for – to catch up.  And I’d be happy to convey any information regarding Ms. Eddis’ proposal at that time.”

The troubled look on Anna’s face softened slightly, so maybe that plan was an acceptable one.  Alexei brightened at the idea.  “Dinner tonight, perhaps?”

Natasha exchanged a glance with Anna.  “That sounds pleasant,” she offered.

“Excellent.  Would you like me to send a car?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Anna said when Natasha didn’t answer immediately.

Alexei looked a little disappointed, but named a restaurant and a time, to which Natasha must have agreed, because then he was walking them out of his office and watching her almost forlornly until the elevator doors closed between them.

“What the hell was that?” Anna hissed, while Adrienne politely pretended not to hear.

“I don’t…  I thought he was dead,” Natasha whispered haltingly.

“He looks like he was inconvenienced by fire at some point, but definitely not dead.”

Natasha sighed.  “I buried him, Anna.”

From the look on Anna’s face, something was occurring to her that hadn’t previously.  “He wasn’t a mark?”

“No.”

“He was actually your husband.”

“Yes.”

“Whom you chose to marry.  The one you left us for?”

“Yes.”

The elevator opened and their conversation, one-sided though it was, ended until they were safely back in Anna’s car.

“What should we do now?”

Natasha shrugged, staring at her lap.  “I don’t know.”

Anna sat back with a grim look on her face and didn’t interrupt Natasha’s thoughts again on the ride.

 

They were driven back to Anna’s office in silence, and Natasha numbly followed her friend inside.  More meetings were taken, Anna doing a good job of focusing on her employers instead of her deaf and dumb friend in the corner.  It was fortunate that no one chose to finish the objective from the day before, because Natasha was in no state to protect anyone.  Finally, the day was done and the room was emptied of everyone but the two of them.  Anna guided Natasha to a chair and then sat down next to her, reminding Natasha that, by some stretch, Anna had always been a sort of big sister.

“Do you want to tell me what happened with him?” she asked gently.

Natasha dragged her eyes up from her lap to stare at her for a moment.  “I left the Red Room… my training, my friends… everything to be with him.  Madame was so upset,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Losing the star pupil will do that,” Anna agreed.

“It took… a while.  I was sent on at least a dozen missions.  I didn’t get to see him much, before we got married.  And then…”

“And then?” Anna prompted when Natasha fell silent.

“Have you been in a relationship for very long?” Natasha asked, suddenly focusing on Anna intently.

“No, Nat, not for long.”

She nodded.  “It’s hard for us.  Not what we were … brought up to do.”  Anna assented silently.  “We were married for more than a year.  It was a challenge.  I had a few missions from his people before…”

There was a long pause while Natasha turned her attention to her hands, twisting them over and over in her lap.  “Before what?” Anna finally asked quietly.

“Before they thought better of it, given my condition,” Natasha said, the bland forcefulness of her tone ineffectively covering up the way her hands were shaking.

Anna reached out to take her hand.  “You were pregnant?”

“Yes.”

They sat in silence while Anna processed this.  “How… how was it?”

“It was wonderful, feeling life growing inside me.  Making up for the lives I’ve taken,” Natasha whispered.

“Natalia… what happened?”

She swallowed convulsively.  “I lost it.  There was blood everywhere.  And Alexei came home and – ”  Her face dropped into her hands and her shoulders shook silently while Anna rubbed her back.  Finally, she lifted her head again.  “We were never the same after that.  His superiors no longer supported the decision, and he didn’t know how to treat me.  Then, one day, they told me he’d been killed in an accident.”

“What did you do?”

Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Natasha sat up straight and set her jaw.  “I made a name for myself.”


	15. Because in the End, the Road Is Long, But Only Because It Makes You Strong

Anna helped Natasha get a nice black cocktail dress, with black fishnet stockings and matching fishnet gloves.  It was reminiscent of what Natasha had worn to Alexei’s funeral.  They hadn’t been able to find a pillbox hat and veil to complete the look, but Natasha wasn’t sure that she was willing to go that far anyway.  Her hair had been shorter then, and she considered getting hers cut, but decided against it.  Though it had been a closed casket funeral, there was no doubt in her mind that Alexei had seen her mourning him.  And this outfit would stir his memory and hopefully get him talking.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Anna asked as they were parked outside the restaurant.

“Yes.”

“Natalia…”

She turned to look at her friend.  “I can handle it,” she said resolutely.

“But you don’t have to.  Not alone.”

Natasha sighed, then took Anna’s hand.  “He will talk to me.  More than he would if I had company.  Just wait in the hotel for Yelena and we’ll figure this out together later tonight.”

“Alright.  Well, be careful.  He might not be the man you remember,” Anna warned.

“I am well-aware of that,” Natasha promised, wondering if she could convince her traitorous heart.

Anna gave her a grave nod, and Natasha got out of the car.  The restaurant was one to which she’d been a few times, though only to follow a mark.  Not often enough to recognize any of the staff, or know the routines of the place.  She would have to be on her guard for a trap.  The fact was that Alexei – Ulyanov was their best lead on what had happened to the other Widows, and his connection could hardly be written off as coincidental.

Knowing his true identity did give some excuse for the previously shady parts of his history.  His accident had been exaggerated and he’d been set up as a wealthy businessman with a new name afterward, it appeared.  Why he hadn’t sought her out was a mystery, and she considered how much part he had taken in making Alexei Shostakov disappear.  There weren’t enough pieces for her to make a reasonable jump to explain that step and his current affiliations, hence her agreeing to dinner.

It definitely was not because she couldn’t resist seeing him again.  Certainly not a weakness on her part.  James had proven himself a better partner than Alexei had ever been, and Natasha would never go into a situation solely to satisfy her morbid curiosity.  It was just convenient that she had another excuse for coming here.  The decision not to bring Anna was a risk, but she wanted to talk to Alexei unhindered by the presence of anyone else.  She hoped he felt the same way as she looked around the busy place.

“Reservation?” the maître d’ asked, bringing her attention to the present.

Uncharacteristically, she fumbled for the right words.  “Sho – Ulyanov.  Vassily Ulyanov,” she corrected herself.

The man looked slightly annoyed at her indecision until he found the name on the list.  Then he became very polite.  “Ah, yes, forgive me, miss.  This way, please,” he said, and led her through the establishment himself.

Her heart pounded as they approached a semi-private room in the back, where Alexei was waiting.  He smiled at her shyly, getting to his feet and holding her chair.  The maître d’ draped her napkin in her lap and bowed himself out.

“You look beautiful,” Alexei said sincerely.

“Thank you,” she replied demurely.

An awkward silence followed, with her staring at the table and him unable to keep his eyes off of her.  “The duck here is really good,” he offered at last.

“I was never fond of duck.”  The response came unbidden and she glanced up apologetically.

He laughed a little.  “I remember that, Natalia.”

“Do you?” she pressed, confrontational.

If he was taken aback, he didn’t show it, just looked a little sad.  “Yes.  I remember all of our time together.”

“I see,” she answered coldly.

“Would it make any difference to know how sorry I am?”

“For what?”

That surprised him.  “Leaving you.”

His voice broke a little and she relaxed slightly.  “Then why did you?”

He looked at her earnestly while she stared him down.  “I had orders,” he finally said.

“Orders?” she echoed, hearing the edge of rage in her voice but powerless to suppress it.

“Yes, Natalia.  Not all of us are willing to abandon everything we’ve worked for, destroying the faith everyone has in us, so easily.”

The anger in his tone made her sit back calmly.  “You think it was easy?” she asked coolly.

His hand unclenched but his expression didn’t soften.  “No, but you _left_.  You went off on your own and they wouldn’t have wanted you back.”

Bristling, she tightened her grip on her skirt to keep from reaching across the table for him; what she would do if she got him she didn’t trust herself to attempt.  “And why, may I ask, did they want me to begin with?”

Realizing he’d said too much, he turned his gaze toward the table and held very still.  The waiter came with champagne, and they were distantly civil to him until he left.

“I thought it was you who wanted me,” she whispered cruelly and his face fell.

“Natalia, of course I did!  I’ve always loved you,” he proclaimed.  “But my superiors… they wouldn’t have allowed me to marry just anyone, no matter how I felt about her.”

She took a drink of the champagne, closing her eyes.  “Why me, then?” she asked levelly.

He bit his lip, considering what to say.  “You were a valuable asset of department and they thought that…  They hoped to have some more,” he explained haltingly, gesturing toward her oddly.

“What does that –” she fell silent, realizing hitting her.  “They wanted to breed us,” she said flatly.

Alexei was watching her, so concerned, so earnest, that it almost hurt to look back at him.  “Yes.”

“So, when I lost the baby, I was no longer deemed worthy of you,” she continued in the same calm tone.

“No!” he protested, clearly anguished.

“Then what?” she snapped.

Pausing to collect his thoughts, he looked around the room in agitation.  “They were testing some things on me.  Different from the ones they’d tested on you.  They were… pleased when I recovered from the crash, and found another use for me.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been one of their agents for years, Natalia.  When I was sent out, I looked for you.  But then you went over to the other side with – with that archer,” he added bitterly.  “And I knew you were lost to me.”

That hardly felt accurate; their two countries were not enemies these days and, while agents from different countries were far from encouraged to fraternize, he could have sought her out.  If she’d known he was alive, how would she have reacted?  Would she have left her life to be with him?  Would he have done the same?  The possibilities were too painful to consider, so she brought her attention back to this reality.  What was done was done, and they couldn’t change it now.

“Why did you found Gynacon?” she asked, taking another drink of champagne.

He seemed surprised by the question, then looked evasive.  Alarm bells began to ring when he looked appraisingly at her glass and she realized he’d drained none of his own.  “I just wanted us to be together, Natalia.  I’ve fixed things, so we can have the life we always wanted.  I had to make a deal, but we won’t have any competition in being the most valuable agents our country has,” he told her as her vision blurred.

“Alexei,” she managed to stutter in protest, getting to her feet.  The room swam and she was aware of him catching her before everything went black.


	16. It's Filled With Peaks and Twists and Turns

Natasha became aware of herself; more importantly, she was aware that she was restrained to a bed.  Silently shifting her weight proved that no maneuvering on her part would free her.  Listening hard gave her the impression that she was in a large room; some water was dripping and echoing through the space.  She could also tell that she was not alone, though likely only one or two people were standing nearby.

“I know you’re awake, Natalia,” Alexei murmured from somewhere to her right.

After a moment, she opened her eyes and saw that he was standing about two feet away with Ian McMasters.  They were in a lab – her muscles tensed when she recognized it.  Rather than be overwhelmed with the fear she could feel bubbling up, she focused on considering whether or not this was always part of Alexei’s plan.  He couldn’t have known he’d meet with her today – could he?

“She seems a little dazed.  Did you give her too much of the stuff?” McMasters asked gruffly, frowning at her.  Looking at her like she was a specimen.  She hadn’t been looked at like that in years and it made her grit her teeth.

“I can assure you it was the correct dosage.  She woke up right when I said she would, didn’t she?” Alexei answered shortly.

McMasters huffed but didn’t pursue the subject.  “Well, let’s get this over with so we can go back to work.”

“Get what over with?” Natasha asked fearfully.

“Your husband here thinks he can fix your reproductive system so the two of you can have the fairytale ending you always wanted.  While working for us, of course,” he added arrogantly.

Natasha opened her eyes wider and struggled against the bonds a little.  “Working for you?” she murmured querulously.

Alexei was busying himself with some implements on the table nearby while McMasters smiled coldly down at her.  “Yes, dear.  I’m sure you’ll make a great team, getting rid of our competition.”

“Competition?” she echoed.

“Like your sisters.  Anyone who might want to reverse engineer our product.  It will be important for the two of you to maintain your position by being the only ones.  Otherwise you’ll end up just like those little girls.”

Glancing to Alexei, she could see he wasn’t pleased with what McMasters was saying.  Whether that was because of the facts or because he didn’t like the other man running his mouth was difficult to determine.  “You killed them?”

“Well, we had to test his serums on somebody before we got to you.  There were some casualties; there always are in these situations,” McMasters replied, waving a hand dismissively.

Natasha fought to keep the anger from her face.  “Because we seven were the only people in the world who received the treatment before?”

“Exactly.”

She smiled slightly.  “Well, perhaps you should have kept better security on Volgograd if you wanted that to remain the case.”

McMasters turned to Alexei sharply.  “What is she talking about, boy?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.  She’s a spy, Ian.  Misdirection is one of her talents.”  He tapped the side of the syringe he’d just finished filling.  “Don’t worry, Natalia.  This shouldn’t hurt,” he promised, leaning forward.

Though she would prefer to have more of her questions answered, Natasha thought now was probably a good time to act.  Twisting painfully, she managed to pull one of her legs out from the restraints and kicked the syringe out of Alexei’s hands.  She was aware of McMasters yelling something while she swung herself onto her feet, hospital bed strapped to her notwithstanding.  The different angle provided her with the ability to remove herself from her bonds, and she threw the operating table at Alexei, judging him to be the bigger threat.  Then she ran.

The place was familiar, but she certainly had not been given free rein to explore.  Also, whatever drug she’d been given made her limbs stiff and running was a challenge.  Still, she managed to outdistance the two men as she plunged haphazardly down the closest hallway.  Her bare feet padded across the concrete floor as she listened for following footsteps.  It didn’t take long for her to hear her pursuers and she tried to get her scattered thoughts to focus on a solution to her predicament.

Slowing down to try to get her bearings, she controlled her breathing to keep it from echoing down the hallways.  Some long-forgotten instinct took over and she moved forward confidently.  When the footsteps were loud enough that she knew she’d be seen in a moment, she slipped inside one of the rooms she’d been passing.  It was more of a cell, and she pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath, and waited.  They did not pause and she let out her breath at last.

Uncertainly, she stepped out and went back the way she’d come.  It was silent in that direction, and she was vaguely hopeful of finding a way out.  Not that she was looking forward to running through the forest she remembering surrounding the place without any shoes.  So maybe she could find her stuff, impractical as the heels she’d worn to dinner might have been.  As she was nearing the operating room, she heard something – singing.  The sound brought her up short as she listened.

The singing was coming from one of the cells that lined the hallway.  It was locked.  She didn’t have the tools to pick it, and scanned around for another solution.  “Hello?” she murmured into the door.

“Hello?” a vaguely familiar female voice responded.

“Do you know where the keys might be?” Natasha asked.

“Natalia?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, bozhe moi, they got you, too?  It’s me, Irina,” the woman added, despair evident in her tone.

Natasha felt a surprising measure of relief.  There were four Widows left, at least.  A seventh of the original number, but the thought filled her with hope.  “I’m getting you out of here,” she said resolutely.  “I’ll be right back.”  Ignoring Irina’s response, Natasha ran back to the lab and searched for a tool that would help with the lock.  The surgical implements briefly made her queasy, but she pushed the thought away.  Finding something that would suffice, she returned to the door at a run.  It took a few tries, but she got it open.

Irina’s hair was matted and she looked pale, but the grin that spread across her face made her appearance much healthier.  Like Natasha, she was just wearing a sort of hospital gown.  No shoes for either of them, Natasha thought mournfully.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there,” Irina said lightly, looking like she wanted to hug Natasha.  The feeling was mutual, but she felt that could wait.

“Do you know how to get out here?”

Irina looked down at herself ruefully.  “I’m not sure.  But I was awake when they brought me in, so I can probably figure it out.”

“Great, I was drugged.  Let’s go,” Natasha replied with a smile.

Silently, the two made their way through the labyrinthine compound.  It did not appear that Alexei and McMasters had brought anyone with them, as the women heard nothing to indicate another presence.  That seemed like poor planning and Natasha couldn’t imagine that they’d left Irina all alone for long, so she remained vigilant nonetheless.

“How long have you been here?” Natasha murmured as they walked.

“About two weeks.  I got captured while under cover and couldn’t notify my handler.  They’ve been… doing stuff to me,” Irina whispered, stopping and closing her eyes briefly.

Natasha put her hand on Irina’s shoulder.  “It’s over now,” she promised.  Irina offered her a smile.  They had never been close, and she wasn’t sure what to say, so they continued in silence.

Finally, they reached an entrance.  Unfortunately, they also found the other personnel about whom Natasha had been wondering.  They fought hard, but it was just the two of them, and they were unarmed.  So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Natasha found herself on her knees with her hands being cuffed behind her.  Still resoundingly disappointing, particularly when she saw the look of terror on Irina’s face as she got the same treatment.  Natasha tried to look reassuring as they waited there in the dirt for McMasters and Alexei.

“I thought you said this would be easy,” McMasters growled to his partner as they left the compound and he took in how many of the men the women had managed to take down.

Alexei looked frustrated, and dropped to his knees in front of Natasha, ignoring what the action did to his suit.  “Natalia, I just want what’s best for you.  For us.  Please don’t make this difficult,” he implored.

Looking significantly at Irina before returning her attention to him, she raised her chin and fixed him with a defiant glare.  A sound in the nearby forest pricked up her ears and she smiled when she caught sight of a couple familiar figures.  “No, Alexei, you want what’s best for you,” she told him pityingly, then a distinctive popping sound could be heard as she dislocated her wrist to get out of her restraints.


	17. Sometimes You Have to Learn to Forget About It

Jumping to her feet, she wrapped the chain of the handcuffs around Alexei’s neck as Anna and Yelena left their cover at her cue.  They were much more helpfully dressed in tack gear and had armed themselves with some of Natasha’s arsenal as well as their own weapons.  None of that was necessary, however.

“Men, stand down,” Anna ordered, and Natasha was delighted by the dismayed expression on McMasters’ face.  If Alexei shared the sentiment, she couldn’t tell.

“Perhaps using her security firm wasn’t the wisest part of your plan,” Yelena suggested as she strode forward to release Irina and turn the cuffs on McMasters.

He glared at Alexei, almost apoplectic in rage.  “We had the product, we were almost without competition, and you threw all that away for your little bitch,” he snarled.

Yelena cuffed him on the side of the head with her gun.  He dropped, but wasn’t unconscious.  “That’s no way to walk to a lady,” she told him firmly.

Natasha smiled at her friend, then looked over at Irina.  The woman seemed to be somewhat shocked, but had no trouble standing on her own two feet and watching the scene progress.  It was likely that she needed medical attention, however, and Natasha would not turn down a check-up on any lingering effects of the drug Alexei had used.

“Good job, ladies.  It was looking a little dicey for a minute.  I hope you brought some transportation.”

They had – it took some time to arrange for enough, but the former Widows and their captives headed back to the city within the hour.  Anna and Yelena took the two men to her building to hold them while Natasha and Irina visited the hospital.  Nothing malign could be found, and Natasha wondered if the serum had worked and Irina was now capable of bearing children.  She suggested the idea as she drove them back to the SI building, but Irina was understandably unwilling to pursue the topic.

After some discussion with the others, Natasha called Maria Hill to come pick up McMasters and Alexei.

“So, what was this all about?” Irina asked tiredly after that decision had been made.

The other three glanced at each other before Natasha answered.  “McMasters found out about the drugs they tested on us and wanted to market them.  The… side-effect was not ideal, so he found Alexei, who had access to the Red Room lab and lab techs.  The plan, I think, was to test the solution on us and see if we were cured.  Some of them… had more adverse effects.  And they staged those deaths to look accidental.”  She paused, frowning.  “Which, I suppose, they were.”

Irina rubbed her face with a sigh.  “I guess I should consider myself lucky.”

“I wouldn’t,” Yelena responded harshly; her ire not directed at Irina, who smiled faintly.

“Well, it’s been a great reunion, ladies, but I’m think I’m going to check in with my handler.  I will have to submit a report on this,” she added, looking apologetic.

“I’m sure that will be fine,” Anna answered soothingly.  “SHIELD will certainly be willing to collaborate with your bosses.”

Natasha exchanged a look with Yelena and they laughed.  “Good luck with that,” the former said.

Irina snorted.  “Well, it’s above my paygrade, so they can do whatever they want.”  Her expression softened as she surveyed the other three women.  “Let’s keep in touch a little better, ladies, hmm?”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Natasha agreed.

“Nat and I have a safe way of communicating; I’ll get you and Anna in on that,” Yelena offered.

Anna lit up.  “That would be wonderful.”

“Great.  Well, I’m off.  Stay safe, my friends,” Irina said, hugging each of them briefly before heading back to the elevator.  They waved as the doors closed, then turned toward each other.

“I’m glad she survived,” Anna murmured softly, expression sorrowful.  No doubt remembering the other losses they’d experienced over the years.

“Mmhmm.  I’m sorry your husband turned out to be a little insane, Nat,” Yelena said earnestly.

Natasha laughed, feeling the tension leaving her, now that this was over.  “Me too.  But I’ve got a better man waiting for me at home, so I think I’ll be on my way before Maria shows up.”

The idea made Anna look even sadder, and Natasha promptly hugged her.  “We will have to keep in touch,” she insisted, holding tighter.

Natasha waved at Yelena to join them; she rolled her eyes, but complied anyway.  “I’m sure we can do that.  It’s always useful to have resources,” Natasha teased, eliciting a laugh from the others

They stepped back and Yelena folded her arms over her chest.  “As long as it’s clear I’m only talking to you because it might benefit me later.”

Anna’s laugh was shaky, as the events of the past few days were hitting her, but she smiled.  “Well, I hope you’ll stop by whenever you’re in my part of the world,” she entreated.

“You know, if Yelena’s tired of jet setting, maybe the two of you could come to some kind of arrangement,” Natasha suggested.

The look Yelena with which fixed Natasha made her smile sweetly, while Anna looked hopefully at the other woman.  “We can talk about it.  Now, get out of here, you sentimental fool.  Go see your boyfriend.”

“I have other things in my life besides my man,” Natasha replied defensively.

Anna put her hand on Natasha’s shoulder.  “We know you better than that, Natalia.  Bring him around some time.  I’d like to see what he’s like in real life.”

Smiling, Natasha gave her another hug, and then took Yelena’s hand.  “See you both soon,” she told them before heading out the door.

 

The flight home was going to be a long one, and Natasha was very relieved to receive a message from Maria beforehand.  SHIELD had arrived to investigate the incident.  Yelena and Anna had provided their statements, as well as sending them toward Irina and her people for more details.  McMasters and Alexei were in custody for now, and Natasha sent her statement in response.

It made it easier, putting the whole situation into a black-and-white report.  It gave her much-needed distance from it; she hated when missions were too close to home for her to handle objectively.  And this one certainly fit the bill.  She hated the way her hands shook when she finished writing, hated the way it seemed like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  So.  Alexei wasn’t dead.  She wasn’t a widow.  That was an improvement, if nothing else. What drove them apart was still there, but perhaps there was a solution for it.  If she wanted it fixed.  Assuming he could deal with being just friends and wasn’t going to spend long in jail.  For now, though, her life was exactly what she wanted it to be.

 

By the time they landed, she felt refreshed and ready to be home.  Home.  She hadn’t had one of those for most of her life.  It was a great feeling.  A taxi dropped her off at their apartment at three in the morning and she smiled up at it.  Making her way inside, she considered that the belongings she’d left in Weimar would need to be fetched, and her safe house restocked.  If not abandoned; it had been where she’d lived with Alexei, all those years ago.  So perhaps she wouldn’t mind never seeing it again.

James was asleep, but awoke at her return.  He was tired and blinking as she entered their room.  “Hello,” he murmured, voice rough.

“Hi, milii moi,” she responded, dropping her bag on the floor and dropping herself onto the bed next to him.

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.  “Did you get the bad guys?” he asked sleepily as he buried his face in her hair.

“Of course.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stop that, though, because it turns out I’m still married,” she said lightly, pantomiming pushing him away.

He looked up at her sharply, if a little bleary still.  “You’re what?”

Taking pity on him, she gave him a kiss and nestled against him.  “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”

“Mmkay,” he responded slowly, searching her face.

She kissed him again, then ran her fingers slowly up and down his side until he settled down and went to sleep again.  It would take her some effort to keep from seeing Alexei’s scarred face when she closed her eyes, but that would pass.  She wouldn’t let that man take this moment, this place from her.  Revisiting her old life reminded her of how little control she had been allowed to have for so much of her youth.  She’d spent her whole life trying to get away from that feeling, and Alexei obviously didn’t understand.  James did.  Yelena did, as did the former Widows and most of her friends and allies.  She’d found her place in the world at last.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, an angsty/cute epilogue of Natasha telling Bucky about the mission. Enjoy!

The sun was high in the sky when Natasha woke up, still feeling groggy.  She was momentarily startled by the emptiness of her bed, but then she smelled breakfast cooking and smiled.  Dragging herself from the comforting warmth of her blankets, she made her way into the kitchen and leaned against the wall to watch James work at the stove.  It was a delight to see him, even doing something as mundane as frying eggs.

“Good morning,” he said, glancing over at her with a smile.

“I love you,” she told him without preamble.

A puzzled look crossed his face before he set down the spatula, turned down the heat on the burner, and walked over to her.  “I love you, too,” he answered quietly, taking her hands and meeting her gaze intently.  “What’s wrong?”

She licked her lips and turned her attention away from him for a moment, before giving into temptation and pressing against his chest.  He obligingly wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back gently.  “I loved you when you trained me, and I… made some mistakes after that, after they took you away.  But they brought me to where I am, to who I am now, and I can’t regret any of it.”

“You don’t have to,” he assured her, leaning away to look at her while he caressed her face.

Breaking away from him, she decided he needed to know the whole of it.  He’d told her everything about himself, his hopes and fears and dreams.  How could she not return the favor?  Pacing, she tried to figure out where to start.  “After you… when you were gone, I met a pilot named Alexei Shostokov.  We were married.  We tried to have kids.  I couldn’t.  So his people made him fake his death so he could continue serving the country away from someone – someone like me.”

James reached for her then, and she let him take her hand, but didn’t look at him.  She had to get this out first.

“That led to me defecting to SHIELD, and you know the rest of that story.  My mission last week took me to Germany, and I ran into Yelena.  You remember her?”

“Yes.”

She glanced at him for confirmation, but couldn’t keep eye contact after seeing the look on his face.  She didn’t deserve him.  “We fended off an abduction attempt.  They said something about going after other Widows, so we tried to track everyone down.  James – they’re all dead,” she whispered, voice shaking with emotion.

“Natalia,” he murmured, pulling her to him again.  She resisted briefly but stilled when he kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.

Inhaling his scent as she breathed slowly, she wrapped her arms around his middle and continued quietly with her cheek resting against his chest.  “We found Anna and managed to avoid the attack on her.  Our only lead was a client of hers named Ulyanov.  She set up a meeting but it was – it was Alexei.  He’d survived somehow.”  She felt the way James tensed and considered that maybe he didn’t need to know this.  But he didn’t stop her, just kept holding her and rubbing her back.

“He got into his head that we all needed to be fixed, and was running experiments on us to make us – to make us fertile again.  His plan was to capture me and make me his wife.  So we could breed super spies, I guess.”  James hands stilled, and she pressed on to make sure he didn’t think she wanted such a thing.  “I found Irina in their facility, and Anna and Yelena busted us out.  We’re all fine, James.  But I… I hate how close he got to what he wanted.”

“Where is he now?”

The anger in James’ voice was palpable, and Alexei was lucky to be somewhere far away from the Winter Soldier.  “SHIELD has him in custody.  It’s over.  The four of us Widows are going to stay in touch and I was… so glad to have you to come home to,” she murmured.

He leaned down to kiss her, and she responded achingly.  When they broke apart, he ran his hand gently over her cheek, looking at her earnestly.  “I’m glad you came home to me,” he whispered.

The new Captain America might not see himself as a good man, might be filled with doubts about what he was doing, and what he deserved.  But she knew those worries were what made him the best man she’d known.  What made her fall in love with him all over again whenever they were together.  She reached over to turn off the stove, causing him to release her.  His expression was quizzical until she grabbed his wrists and began pulling him back toward their bedroom.

“Breakfast can wait, James,” she told him firmly.

A smile tugged at his lips.  “I guess it can,” he agreed.  “I would have thought all that sleeping would have worked up your appetite, but I guess I’ll see what I can do.”

She laughed.  “I expect nothing less than your best.”

With a grin, he swept her into his arms and dropped both of them onto the bed.  What was left of the morning sped by while he stepped up to the occasion, and she considered again how lucky she was.


End file.
